Dragon Rising
by Plikkit
Summary: A girl is, apparently, destined to be a queenrider. This is a fate predicted since the day she was Searched. However, discovering herself in a Weyr after fifteen quiet Turns in a Hold, Saya begins to distinguish between what matters and what will fade.
1. Chapter 1

Dragon Rising

A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.

---Chapter I----

"Hey! You there, girl!"

Saya froze, if awkwardly, for the armful of firewood she was clasping was wedged firmly against her chest and inhibited some stances. She was aware of the misplaced wisps of auburn hair falling over her face as she grimaced and scanned the main hall of Fort Hold, looking for the voice's source.

To her utter shock, it was a dragonrider who addressed her. He was tall and muscled, dressed in the warm and durable wherhide clothing meant for riding a-dragonback. He had stood up rather quickly, it seemed, from a meal with several of his fellows, for dark wine stained his cuff where he had knocked over his glass. He advanced a few steps toward her, and Saya could no longer believe that it had not been she to whom he had called.

"What's your name? Are you a woman of this Hold?"

Saya carefully set down the wood on the worn stones of the main hall floor, mentally re-gathering scattered dignity as she did so. Straightening, she brushed her rampant locks behind her shoulders and replied, "My name is Saya. I'm to be a woman of Fort Hold in six months' time."

"Shells, are you but a fosterling?" The man strode to her and, with a complete disregard for her discomfiture or their very recent introduction, cupped her chin. Saya stiffened at his bold touch, but did not move.

"How old are you, Saya?"

"Sixteen Turns this summer, Sir," she answered, acutely aware of the blush she could no longer control creeping its way across her cheeks.

"Well, then." The dragonman closed his eyes briefly, as if in painful contemplation. "My Lagrarth informs me that you have substantial Power in you. Yes, you are a stunning find."

Somewhat resenting this indirect comparison to a material object, Saya finally pulled back from the dragonrider's grasp.

"Shards, where are my manners?" he suddenly announced, bringing a palm to his forehead. "Forgive me. I am S'del, brown Lagrarth's rider, here on Search for Fort Weyr. Tell me, Saya...how did you come to be here at Fort Hold?"

By this point, Saya felt a strange mixture of emotions welling in her. There was not a human being on Pern who had not wistfully sun-dreamed of being chosen on Search, but now she felt that possibility being poisoned by a touch of reluctance and fear. She had been a generally quiet girl, having been raised by a very demure fostermother. However, much as she liked her life and friendships with the other fosterlings at Fort Hold, she had been feeling a more outgoing spirit in her as of late. So, she had thrown herself into her duties to lessen the time until her introduction as a full woman of the Hold. To have that goal suddenly threatened was, well...somewhat disappointing.

She shook her head. What was she thinking? Life at a Weyr, if she indeed managed to stand successfully, would be a great deal more exciting. But also much more dangerous and mysterious...her head whirled with the sudden onslaught of thoughts toward a future she had never before considered. Not to mention, she scolded herself, she was jumping to conclusions on S'del intent. She had no idea what "Power" was, nor a great deal of knowledge about dragonkind.

"My parents are Seaholders in Nerat. They sent me here to be fostered, Sir; I've been here about four Turns." She unconsciously fingered the ends of her shoulder-length hair.

"Indeed?" S'del glanced back at his fellow dragonriders, who were observing their conference while chewing thoughtfully. Saya abruptly realized that S'del still held an empty wine glass.

"Let me get you and your companions some more wine..." she said, the serving courtesies drilled into her brain.

He cut her off. "Nonsense. I'm sure we've already had enough of Fort Hold's excellent drink." He paused. "Saya, would you object to walking with me for a time?"

"N-no, not at all," she replied, feeling a nervousness in her that she could not quell. Self-conscious, she glanced down at her simple blouse and skirt, slightly dusty from the frenzied baking she had taken part in when it was learned that dragonriders were coming on Search. Never would she have dreamed...

But, it was not in her nature to fuss over appearances overly much, so she shrugged internally and followed S'del out the main double doors, leaving the wood in a pile by the hearth.

S'del led her through the masses of stone pilings surrounding Fort Hold, absently gazing at the mountains rising impressively all around. Saya observed the glazed look in his eye and decided that he must be in communication with his dragon.

"Saya, you are a young woman with great potential." He turned to look at her, hazel eyes gleaming in a young and angular face. "Would you object to being my Candidate for Search?"

Saya stopped in her tracks, still surprised no matter how much she had anticipated this. He was so concise, at least.

"I don't know how you can perceive such potential in people, S'del," she said carefully. Then, she couldn't help but raise on eyebrow. "Unless it is one of your dragon's many capabilities?"

He shot her a look. "Intelligent, too?"

Saya straightened her shoulders. "Merana never neglected my education," she said, naming her Foster mother.

Suddenly the air was full of a rushing sound, one that Saya had heard before only from a distance. She and S'del both looked up, and Saya's vision was slightly obscured by her hair, which appeared to be rising up to greet a massive, airborne bulk which blotted out the sun until it backwinged and landed gracefully in a clearing nearby, very clearly a dragon. And a brown one, no less, folding his wings and turning his wedge-shaped head to greet them, eyes whirling a vivid blue.

"Lagrarth senses, I think, more of you than even you may," S'del said quietly. "There is a Queen egg hardening on Fort's sands. What girl does not harbor the desire to be a Weyrwoman?"

"Your confidence is...flattering, Sir," Saya said, finally letting her brown gaze meet with Lagrarth's azure one. She saw there an intellect, a magnificence and a grace, which she admired, and, undeniably, shamelessly...coveted.

What did she have to lose? If rejected, she could return to Fort Weyr and resume duties as a woman there. She was being given a chance at something more beautiful than she could yet concieve, and she wasn't fool enough to spurn it.

"I'll come," she said to S'del, dragging her eyes away from the brown dragon. "What do I need?"

"Nothing but your spirit," S'del assured her. Lagrarth honored her with a triumphant bugle.

Saya arrived at Fort Weyr a great deal more informed than she had been upon leaving the Hold. She had learned that not only was there a Queen egg in the Fort Hatching Grounds, but thirty-seven mottled ones, and fifty-two other Candidates competing for each of them. Fort's senior Queen, Fylanth, had been flown by Gidrith, the bronze of the current Weyrleader, Q'mil. It had been a joyous occasion, the end of the reign of the well-disliked Weyrleader R'fut, and this clutch marked the beginning of a newly led generation of dragonriders.

Saya recalled a rumor that had been circulating in Fort Hold, which she had disregarded until now. It was common knowledge that both gold and green dragons were female, but it was thought that women only Impressed to the golds. A story carried by traders from Ista Weyr told of a girl who had become rider to a fighting green dragon, an incident greeted by immense shock.

"Oh, certainly, girls can Impress greens," S'del replied to her query as they circled above the Weyr bowl. He then grinned. "But you'll be vying for the queen."

Once again unnerved by S'del's confidence, Saya peered down over Lagrarth's shoulder at the bowl. Dragons, blue, green, brown, and bronze, perched on ledges outside the many weyr entrances dotting the smooth bowl sides, many sunning on the fire-heights. She observed with scarcely masked fascination as a bronze dragon swooped down upon a massive herd of wherries at the base of the mountain and dispatched one fowl with a deft grasp of a talon.

The watchdragon bugled a query which Lagrarth answered smartly before backwinging to land on the ledge outside S'del weyr. The dragonriders that had accompanied him to Fort Hold scattered to their own weyrs.

"Hatching is due any day now," S'del explained as they dismounted and Saya padded curiously into the weyr. There was a cot, a bathing room, and a shallow dip in the stone that she presumed was his dragon's bed, all encompassed by smooth stone walls. It all looked quite accommodating, and some pleasure warmed up her chilled flesh.

She shuddered internally at the memory of her first ride _between._ It had been startling, and the experience almost seemed to permeate to her very bones. But it wasn't so intimidating that she could not endure on a dragon of her own.

She folded her arms and nibbled her lower lip, trying not to let her expectations rise too high. From what S'del had told her, five other girls were also hopeful. She could contain her excitement for now, even when being pushed at on all sides by the prospects of becoming a dragonrider.

"Feel free to wander a bit in the Lower Caverns, explore, and meet people," S'del told her cheerfully. "If Hatching begins, and you can't figure it out on your own, I'll send Ferrsh here to find you." Saya saw a brown fire-lizard (Lagrarth in miniature) alight on the rider's shoulder, and she smiled.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "But...er...how do I get down?"

"Oh!" S'del exclaimed, and he chuckled. "Of course. Sorry. Let me ask Lagrarth to send for a weyrling to bring you down."

He looked distant for a moment as he spoke to his dragon, who rumbled as he settled himself in his bowl.

"F'bran's on his way up," S'del said to Saya a moment later. "Go and stand out on that ledge."

Saya did so. A gentle breeze funneled down the Weyr bowl to pick at her clothing; she stood still at the edge, a tense being brimming with anticipation the likes of which she had never experienced.

Saya was stunned from her reverie a moment later as a young bronze dragon launched himself from the weyrling caverns and winged his way purposefully toward her.

Her eyes were momentarily filled with gleaming bronze hide as the beast leveled itself with the ledge, then landed, a bit less gracefully, Saya saw with amusement, than the mature Lagrarth. The dragon found footing and curved its neck around to regard her with whirling, opalescent eyes.

"Caprioth says that he approves of you," said a young voice from atop the dragon's neck. Perched there was a young man, not very many Turns her senior, looking quite chipper.

With gymnastic ability that astonished her, he half-leapt, half-slid down his dragon's shoulder and landed on both feet for about a second before he crashed to his knees.

Saya smothered a grin underneath a palm, immediately feeling comfortable with the young man. He had tousled, red-orange hair, and a pale complexion that stood out among many of his fellow riders. Rather tall and lanky, the wherhide tunic was a tad too short for him and thus gave him the appearance of wearing clothes a few sizes too small.

He smiled at her, his green eyes wrinkling at the corners. "I just made myself look like a complete dimglow with that, didn't I?" he asked, good-naturedly rustling his hair as he got up. "Sorry. My name's F'bran, rider of bronze Caprioth who's scolding me as we speak. What's your name, m'lady, and where would you like to be taken?"

Saya chuckled at his ridiculous titling of her. "My name's Saya. Just...take me where there's some space!"

F'bran laughed, and mounted astride his dragon, offering a hand to help Saya up. She ignored it and vaulted up behind him with her own strength, her position just slightly unsteady before she righted it between the neck ridges.

"Caprioth approves of me, you said? As what?" The bronze spread his wings and beat into the air, only to begin a circling descent down to the Lower Cavern entrances.

"Why, as a queen Candidate, of course, what else? Where did you say you've come from?" F'bran asked, curiosity tingeing his voice.

"Fort Hold."

"Ah. I came from a minor hold in Telgar. I Impressed at Fylanth's last Hatching," F'bran could not help but say with some pride as he patted Caprioth's neck affectionately. "A year ago, under R'fut."

Saya made a mental decision to bury herself in Fort records and learn the Weyr's history before she made a complete idiot of herself.

"I'd like to meet the other Candidates," she voiced tentatively as Caprioth continued descending leisurely.

"A very good idea," F'bran agreed. "Hatching may not happen for a sevenday, so you should probably make friends."

"Haven't I already started?" Saya couldn't help but ask on an impulse that surprised her.

F'bran waited until Caprioth landed at the base of the bowl to reply. "Of course you have," he said, taking her hand and smiling again as they dismounted. "Let me show you around."

Saya bowed to Caprioth. "Thank you for taking me." The dragon's eyes seemed to gleam with rainbows. Then, he took off without his rider, doubtless to go sun on some ledge as the two toured part of Fort Weyr.

"Now," F'bran began as the two turned from watching the beast's flight. Then, the bronze rider collided fantastically with a woman carrying two pitchers of water.

Saya yelped as the icy liquid speckled onto her unsuspecting face, but that shock quickly dissolved into laughter as F'bran, soaked and ten different shades of red, apologized profusely to the fuming lady.

"However you Impressed a bronze, I'll never know," the lady said angrily, bending to collected pottery fragments. Saya hastened to help, but gaped at the lady as the echo following her remark died.

F'bran grinned at the Candidate's shocked expression. "She says that all the time. It actually means, 'You're an incurable klutz, F'bran.'"

Though she privately agreed, Saya responded only with a chuckle as she handed the pieces to the annoyed woman and watched her move on.

"C'mon. We'll go to the Candidates' rooms and get some towels." The front of F'bran's tunic and pants were dark with moisture.

As we walked, F'bran explained that the Candidates lived together in a set of rooms until Hatching occurred, at which point those who had Impressed were moved to the weyrling caverns. Candidates also dined together, although Q'mil didn't believe in the practice of introducing the younglings to the eggs prior to Hatching. They would be clueless, but they would be together.

They passed the Hatching Ground on their way. Saya gawped at the clustered thirty-seven eggs, surrounding the single shining Queen egg. The brilliantly golden Fylanth was curled protectively around her clutch, and she favored Saya and F'bran with a friendly-enough glance of acknowledgment.

"I wonder what Fylanth thinks of me..." Saya murmured.

"Who knows? It's her daughter's judgment you'll want to sway," F'bran answered pensively.

Saya gazed at the Queen egg broodingly, feeling a strange rush of emotions surge through her, although she couldn't pinpoint any specifically. Seeing those eggs simply produced an avalanche of innate response that she couldn't control, and therefore slightly feared.

F'bran looked at her knowingly. "Overwhelming, isn't it?"

Saya nodded, her mouth suddenly dry.

"You'll be fine." His reassurance was comforting, but he unsettled her with his next statement. "I feel that you're destined for something great, Saya."

"You feel?" Saya couldn't help but shoot back, one hand on her roiling stomach.

F'bran suddenly looked nervous, repentant. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Don't listen to my prattling," he said quickly. Fortunately, they came upon the Candidates' set of rooms at that moment, branching off a hallway that had quick access to the Hatching Grounds.

They entered and were instantly greeted by a somber looking man, with large bags underneath watery blue eyes.

"I'm Y'hen, Talth's rider. Candidate master here at Fort. Bronze rider, you may go."

F'bran looked stunned. "I was just showing her--"

"She has already had a start on the other Candidates, getting assistance from a dragonrider." Y'hen eyed F'bran. "Even just a weyrling. Leave, please, so she may be introduced."

F'bran obeyed reluctantly, bidding Saya goodbye as he turned and strode out of the corridor.

"Candidates!" Y'hen suddenly roared. Saya was used enough to Hold life not to jump, but she did become tense as doors were thrown open and young people of ages ranging from her own age to twenty Turns came pouring out upon the Candidate master's call.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dragon Rising**

A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.

Question for anyone: Is it known about how many months pass before a dragonet is ready to learn to fly/go between?

Concrit/reviews still appreciated!

RECAP: "Candidates!" Y'hen suddenly roared. Saya was used enough to Hold life not to jump, but she did become tense as doors were thrown open and young people of ages ranging from her own age to twenty Turns came pouring out upon the Candidate master's call.

---Chapter II----

Saya noticed the five other female candidates standing among their male peers staring at her with appraising gazes, and shifted uncomfortably.

"This is Saya, from..." Y'hen looked at her pointedly.

"Fort Hold," Saya supplied, mustering the courage to make eye contact with a few. Some smiled; some simply regarded her with blank expressions.

"Mingle," Y'hen yelled, to Saya's horror. She turned to stare at him as the echo of his absurd command died in the hall, her brows raised.

Resigned, she turned once again to face the now-murmuring group of younglings, and was suddenly facing another girl of her age.

She was shorter than Saya, but with a pleasantly heart-shaped face and round blue eyes. Her light blue gown was bordered with white, an elegant detail not often seen but which complemented her dark brown waves of hair. She was smiling; such a sweet, happy smile that Saya couldn't help but return it tentatively.

"I'm Ellan, Weyrbred of Fort," the girl said, introducing herself.

"Ah, I guess you know who I am already," Saya replied, feeling silly, but heartened by the girl's straightforward introduction.

Ellan then laughed, a tinkling sound. "You are very new to Weyr life, aren't you? Don't be frightened. It isn't intimidating at all. Everyone's quite easygoing and friendly."

"Except for our Candidate master, there," Saya couldn't help but mutter, and Ellan barely suppressed a grin.

"True," she said.

Ellan and Saya became fast friends despite their mutual acknowledgment of their rivalry. Saya liked Ellan's sweet and unobtrusive nature, and Ellan thought the same of Saya's thoughtful and congenial personality. It turned out that the other Queen candidates envied their friendship, and Saya soon got to know each of them well enough. There was Lella from a Seahold; she was an amorous youth. Daini from the High Reaches Hold dreamed of glory and respect. Callengra of Ruatha was quietly expectant, and finally Espelle from the Farmcrafthall was a bouncy, loud, and energetic girl.

Saya also befriended several of the male prospective dragonriders over the next few days, finding that she generally preferred a boy's company to a girl's (with the exception of Ellan), for reasons unknown to her.

One of her closest friends was Belled, a serious young man who was Harpercraftbred and quite skilled with the gitar. He knew as little about Weyr life as she, so the two would often meet to discuss their perspectives on what they had learned that day, whether it be from Y'hen or their own explorations.

"Saya," he said to her one day as they sat in a Record room, a crumbling skin spread out between them and weighed down with their elbows. It was a diagram of Fort Weyr, detailing ancient tunnels and caverns all the way up to the highest weyr in the bowlside. They had been poring over it for a day now, examining the symbols printed by the weyrs and referring back to another skin, which listed each dragonrider next to the symbols of his or her weyr. Of course, these skins were several hundred Turns old, and all the riders and dragons had by now expired. Still, they both got an inexplicable thrill of reading the names of their predecessors past.

"There are thirty-seven eggs out there," Belled continued, his brows furrowing in worry over his dark blue eyes. "And fifty-two of us. What if I don't Impress?"

Saya blinked her eyes to rid them of the fuzz from staring at faded skins, and then smiled slightly at the stocky youth. "I don't think that's very likely. You're a sharding good person and a clever thinker."

Belled replied with good humor, "Oh, we're using Weyr oaths now. Practicing, are we?"

Saya adopted a sheepish expression. "I've picked it up."

"From whom? We aren't allowed to speak to actual dragonriders yet."

"No, but I've met some weyrlings who know their stuff. Plus we sometimes go in for meals as riders are leaving, and we can hear what they're saying."

"Any news of the Hatching?"

Saya sighed. "It's slightly delayed, but really unpredictable. Fylanth doesn't seem agitated yet, they said. You know I'm as clueless as you."

Belled thoughtfully stroked the diagram with one finger before they both returned to their reading.

Saya said, "Look, it says that the senior Weyrwoman at this time was Grethai, Hepith's rider..."

There was a set of fosterbrothers among the Candidate group; Kewen two Turns older than his fosterbrother, Feteen. Saya befriended them as she helped to settle an argument: who would Impress a bronze.

"Maybe you both will," she had shouted over the chaos of their row. "Besides, wouldn't it be an honor to Impress any dragon?" She had retreated from that, wide-eyed with exasperation at their antics but also visibly shaking from the experience. Both boys had approached her at meal that evening; a long and enjoyable discussion about dragonkind ensued.

Yikiz was another; he had also been searched from Fort Hold, and Saya spent an hour each night exchanging stories of escapades with the adventurous young man. They had never met at the Hold, and Saya found herself very much regretting that fact. Yikiz had a quick and sprightly way about him that made one want to jump up and perform daring acts of bravery. He was handsome, too, with sand-colored hair and a strong jaw, and the fact that he seemed to enjoy her company was cheering. However, Saya didn't spend very much time examining future possible weyrmates.

She began to realize after the first few days how very much at home she felt with her fellows at Fort. She found she could open up more to certain people, especially Ellan and Belled, and was less afraid to speak to strangers. In truth the Weyr seemed to be bringing out the best in her, and she was carefully cultivating a sociability that she hadn't been able to develop at the Hold. Following orders seemed less of a chore when she was doing them towards a brighter future.

One evening, the Weyrleader and Y'hen apparently decided that the Candidates should be integrated more into the Weyr. So, during their supper, the weyrlings joined them. The Candidates exchanged surprised whispers at how close the weyrlings really were to their own age.

Saya saw F'bran extricate himself from the group, grinning hugely and walking toward her, Ellan, Belled, Yikiz, Kewen, and Feteen where they sat at a table.

"Having a good evening?" he asked courteously of them all as he joined them in sitting with a plate of roast wherry.

"Yes, sir," they all automatically answered, with the exception of Saya who just nodded and smiled.

"It's good to see you again," she said. "How's Caprioth?"

"Hunting right now, the crazed beast. His belly is larger than this cavern."

The other Candidates at the table looked shocked.

"You two know each other?" Ellan asked of Saya. Her round eyes were wide.

"We met just after I was Searched," the other girl explained, all of a sudden feeling self-conscious.

"We get along well," the weyrling dragonrider said. "I'm F'bran, Caprioth's rider."

One by one, the others introduced themselves.

"All hoping to Impress?" F'bran asked, devious in his mannerisms and catching Saya's eye as everyone simultaneously burst into commentary about the dragon they hoped to stand for.

"I don't care what color," Belled said, pondering.

"Well, neither do we," Feteen interjected and looked at Saya, who nodded approval, delighted at the subtle deference.

F'bran noticed it, as well. He went on, "Plenty of rumors circulating, too. 'There are twenty bronzes'; 'it's a whole clutch of browns', and other Shell-damned stories like that." He shrugged and took a gulp from his cup.

Ellan spoke up, saying, "That's utterly ridiculous. If anything, this clutch will be perfectly balanced, if the tales of the mating flight are true." She looked inquiringly at the bronzerider, dipping her head.

"It was quite spectacular," F'bran answered. "Every mature bronze in the Weyr flew for her; lucky for us Q'mil's Gidrith won out, and not R'fut's Teriath."

"What exactly…" Saya began.

Then, the Weyrsinger suddenly appeared in the cavern and began playing a lively tune on his gitar. The Candidates and weyrlings cheered appreciatively, and Saya managed to get Belled up to join the talented Harper.

"He's good!" F'bran exclaimed as he watched Belled's fingers dance upon the neck of his instrument. The atmosphere was light and Saya's good mood was not spoiled even by the bitter dregs of _klah_ they had been served.

"He is," she agreed fully. "Though he's afraid that he won't Impress." She made a slight face as she took a sip of _klah_, but told herself she was getting spoiled anyhow. Then, she once again watched Belled's skilled performance, taking pleasure in the rhythm and melody of his and the Weyrsinger's music. "As if any dragon would reject him," she added, a few moments later.

F'bran quirked a smile. "You have confidence in him."

"I have confidence in all my friends," Saya insisted, and then was distracted as stray locks of hair inevitably fell over and obscured her sight.

"Did you leave many friends behind at Fort Hold?" F'bran asked suddenly.

She cocked her head at him. "My foster mother kept me rather apart from most other fosterlings. As I was to become a full woman of the hold, I guess...I couldn't really afford to be distracted. Merana…" she trailed off.

F'bran casually placed his jaw into the palm of one hand, elbow on the tabletop. The glowbasket illuminated his bright hair so it looked rather fiery. "Was she proud of your being Chosen on Search?"

Saya considered this. "I don't know." After a pause in which they both drank deeply of _klah_ that had been refreshed by a drudge, she said, "I do know that weyr life is very different from the Hold. Girls here have fewer inhibitions and several more privileges, and public compliments are not so rare. There is a firm togetherness about the place." She suddenly felt sad. "I'm not sure if I'll fit in. I'm not so comfortable with easy pleasures."

F'bran rushed to reassure her. "Nonsense. Why, I am sure that every Candidate and Weyrling here at least knows your name, if they aren't already acquainted or befriended."

She gave him a curiously mixed expression of skepticism and pleasure.

Just then, Belled and the other Harper finished their concert, and Saya, F'bran, and the others were prevailed upon to cheer and praise until their throats were raw.

Saya took more confidence from F'bran's remarks than she let on, even allowing herself to draw hope from the resilience of the other Candidates. Surrounded by such lively folk, it was difficult to be worried or anxious.

Though while the life and attitudes of the Weyr were cheering, the constant presence of dragonkind a reminder that, despite all the merriment, the Weyrs of Pern were established to do one thing only: fight Thread. In fact, Thread had fallen just the other day under Fort's jurisdiction, and when the riders had returned, stinking of firestone and with exhausted beasts, the air about the Weyr was one of grim satisfaction. Saya had not resented it. She had known that the Weyr was in its element.

The next morning, the Candidates were awoken by a deep, resonant sound; one so penetrating that their very bones seemed to vibrate with the noise. It was incessant and eerie, and they each knew at once what it was.

Y'hen burst into the corridor, flustered and fidgety. "The eggs are Hatching! Everyone to the Hatching Ground at once! Scorch it, hurry up!"

Saya practically flew out of her cot, her nervousness matched only by her sheer excitement. Her stomach twisted as she stripped out of her underclothes and donned the plain white robe that had been hanging on the wall peg for a sevenday, fumbling over the loose folds to locate and tie the strings. Callengra, her roommate, finished and swiftly left.

She caught a glimpse of herself in an elongated looking-glass as she moved to exit her room. Dark auburn hair, loose from its tail, fell to her elbows in unchecked waves; her small, pale body was nearly lost in the robe, which, as she pulled back to find her frame, showed her to be mostly straight and faintly round at the breast. Her face was also pale, and rather long, with hazel eyes accented by slender brows.

Saya hesitated. Would this creature soon be accepted by a member of the most magnificent species on Pern? She didn't allow her mind to venture further down that line of thought; she couldn't.

In the corridor, she was joined by a very pallid-looking Ellan. The two stood in tense silence as the rest of the Candidates spilled out of their rooms. Then, the march was on.

Up through the caverns and hallways they padded as quickly as they could, led by a sweaty Y'hen. The dragons' welcoming-hum still reverberated throughout, so the group kept to respectful silence. No one knew what to anticipate.

Saya's palms were damp. No matter how many times she wiped them on her robe, they were still sweaty with nerves. Then, she berated herself for worrying about palm moisture at such a time.

And there it was: a bright archway that led a path to her future...

The Hatching Grounds, a great expanse of gently steaming ground presided over by the Senior queen, were surrounded by tiers upon which a great deal of people sat, nearly entirely silent. Saya was stunned at such a number, but that only held her mind for a second. Next her eyes were drawn to her feet, which were uncomfortably hot in their thin-soled shoes. The sands were scalding.

The gently rocking eggs captured all their attention very quickly after that, though, and Y'hen gave their group a rough push toward the clutch. The boys and girls separated, males fanning out in a circle around the mottled eggs, and the girls grouping haphazardly around the single golden queen egg, which had rolled slightly to one side. Fylanth was only a dragonlength away from her golden egg, eyes red with defiance. A hiss escaped her jaws, symbol of the dragon's internal fighting spirit. Saya and Ellan exchanged glances, although Lella, Callengra, Daini and Espelle had their gazes fixed firmly on the queen's shell.

Then, the first egg split open evenly. The girls dragged their eyes from their queen and watched with terrified delight as a little bronze dragonet stumbled from the shards. It squealed, an endearing sound, and rustled damp wings before half-leaping, half-waddling over to a lad that Saya knew by name as Hetrin; Impression occurred, and H'trin bent, weeping, and began to murmur his dragon's name: "Melath, Melath, Melath..."

Other eggs were now hatching too, some evenly and some in great sprays of shell fragments. Blue, green, brown, and bronze hatchlings crooned and wailed, searching for their riders. Saya watched as Belled collapsed to his knees before a sturdy brown dragonet, eyes pouring tears as he encircled his dragon's neck with his arms and became B'led. To Saya, it was an astonishing and breathtaking sight. The other girls were transfixed, as well, until the queen egg shattered.

Pieces of the rock-hard shell flew everywhere as the queen made her dramatic appearance; one particularly jagged shard sliced across Saya's cheekbone, and pain rippled through her body. She had one tear-blurred glimpse of a golden dragonet before she pivoted on her waist and doubled over, away from the group, gasping and holding fingers to a bloody cheek. Then, she opened her eyes, and something extraordinary happened.

Valianth stared up at Saya's face with her eyes shimmering in a myriad of rainbows, sitting back on her haunches and wings partially outstretched. In a glorious instant, Saya forgot her wound and fell to her knees to embrace the green dragonet, and said in a choked whisper, "You're mine, Valianth, forever and ever. I love you." Valianth crooned anxiously over her rider's injury, and blinked opalescent eyes.

_Saya- of- my- heart. _

Saya nearly drowned in ecstasy. Suddenly gripped by a sense of pride so intense that she could hardly breathe for elation, Saya stood and shouted, "She says her name is Valianth!" _My wonderful joy!_ And at the same moment, somebody cried, "Her name is Inneth!

Saya still had one hand on Valianth's emerald head, stroking eye ridges and causing her dragon's eyes to whirl with pleasure. At that call, she turned and saw Ellan kneeling next to the new queen, who shone a shade of pale gold. Tears of bliss seeped down Ellan's round face as she stroked the new queen Inneth's large head. Saya, who had quite forgotten about the queen hatchling, stood for a moment, astounded. Then, Valianth interrupted her thoughts.

_I'm hungry._


	3. Chapter 3

**Dragon Rising**

A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.

I know there may be some incorrect facts: if you see some, please don't burn me. Just let me know so I can fix it

RECAP: Saya still had one hand on Valianth's emerald head, stroking eye ridges and causing her dragon's eyes to whirl with pleasure. At that call, she turned and saw Ellan kneeling next to the new queen, who shone a shade of pale gold. Tears of bliss seeped down Ellan's round face as she stroked the new queen Inneth's large head. Saya, who had quite forgotten about the queen hatchling, stood for a moment, astounded. Then, Valianth interrupted her thoughts.

_I'm hungry._

---Chapter III----

And so the little green hatchling was. Saya and her new life partner helped each other stumble from the Hatching Grounds with the other pairs, to find a cavern and trays heaped high with raw, dripping meat. Valianth gorged in post-hatching hunger, her muzzle stained red.

Saya watched with unadulterated pride and ardor. Valianth was hers, all hers, her gorgeous, strong green beauty. When she could tear her eyes away from the feasting dragonet, she observed the same mix of feelings reflected in the faces of her peers, now Weyrlings. With that, Saya thought of F'bran and the others and wondered if they had now been deemed true dragonriders. In all her ecstasy, she was happy for him, too.

When Valianth and her siblings finished, a sentimental-looking rider by the name of G'sas led them to the cluster of weyrling caverns. Saya swept dirt out of a stony wallow and Valianth ambled over to curl up, her belly swollen beneath her striking hide.

_Dearest Valianth, _Saya thought, once again folding her legs under herself to rub her dragon's eye ridges. She was rewarded with a mental stream of loving, tender thoughts as the green dragon drifted into satisfied sleep.

Saya's Impression of green Valianth had been greeted by a variety of reactions among those watching the Hatching. It had undoubtedly been unexpected, especially because it had occurred before the queen's own Impression. Normally, disappointed queen Candidates went after greens, but Saya's was not of this nature.

F'bran, standing towards the back of the tiers, noted the shattering of the queen egg and then saw, with ambivalence, Saya's face transform into pure, joy-steeped beauty as she made an Impression with a stunningly emerald dragonet. He was only slightly dismayed as the new queen lurched forth from her egg behind her, greeted enthusiastically by the Weyr bronzes; that feeling was quickly dismissed when he saw the love etched on Saya's face as she stroked her dragonet's eye ridges. So, she hadn't Impressed the queen. She was still Saya and would make a fine greenrider.

S'del watched with horror as Saya Impressed the scrawny green hatchling that had wandered behind her. The word "No" was on his lips as he stood, wine goblet crashing to the floor. But Inneth, the new queen, was already butting that girl Ellan and soon she had Impressed to the other Candidate.

S'del roared with anger. That girl Saya had been perfect--_perfect_--for Weyrwoman; the fact that a _green_ dragon had stolen that was enraging. Saya didn't know the mistake she had made, committing herself to the smallest and lowliest color of the dragons, when she could have ridden a queen.

Jerkily, S'del turned and stamped out of the tiers, intending to let his feelings be known. His Candidate, a greenrider...

Saya must have fallen asleep, for when she awoke next to a still-slumbering Valianth, there was a thick fur draped over her body. She smiled as she saw her dragon's green bulk next to her, admired her lovely hue and translucent wings.

Then, a hand slapped a globule of something cold and sticky on her cheek.

She sat straight up, kept from exclaiming by a desire to let Valianth sleep. She glared some half-hearted annoyance at F'bran, who was squatting next to the wallow with a jar of thick salve.

Saya ran fingertips over her wound, now covered in goo--the pain was gone.

"What is that?" Saya asked, gesturing to the jar in F'bran's hand.

The bronze rider smiled. "Numbweed. Excellent on Thread- and- eggscore." Saya grimaced.

He continued. "You'll be learning about that, and more for the next while." His chest inflated. "I'm a full-fledged dragonrider now, a Wing member as of this morning!"

Saya bit her lip, once again aware of how many gaps there were in her knowledge.

F'bran, not wanting to distress her, said, "She really is a very lovely green." He nodded to the dragon behind his friend. "What was her name?"

Saya smiled, and turned to rest a hang on her green's shoulder. "Valianth."

"Such a dazzling color! Yes, definitely the prettiest shade I've yet to see in a green." He grinned, such a characteristic gesture for him.

Saya beamed at him. Then young Valianth stirred, and she hastened to rub her fingers along the sensitive ridges. The hatchling's outer eyelid drooped in pleasure, and soon she was sleeping peacefully again.

"Hard to believe she'll grow to fight Thread," Saya said, and shuddered. She was not without the Pernese deep-seated fear of the skyborne menace, and the thought of pitting her precious Valianth against the ancient foe made her stomach flip.

"She'll grow incredibly fast," F'bran assured her. "And get stronger by the minute. You watch. When she's full-grown, she'll be following her instincts and _begging_ to get out there and flame Thread."

"What will we learn as weyrlings?" Saya asked him, curious. She stood up from under her fur and folded it, tossing it to the side. Then, she saw that she still wore the white robe of Impressing. Flushing, quickly she excused herself from F'bran and, finding that some simple clothes had been placed near Valianth's foreclaws, she changed in a nearby bathing room.

She then combed her hair with her fingers and splashed cool water on her face, eager to get back to Valianth and F'bran.

"You'll learn how to care for a growing and mature dragon," F'bran told her when she returned, as if she hadn't left. They stood together and began to meander throughout the weyrling caverns. "You'll learn about Thread, and then you'll get up and practice maneuvers to avoid it. Your dragons'll be taught to chew fly properly, go _between_, and chew firestone."

"F'bran!" G'sas had appeared at the entrance to the caverns, his face rosy and chest heaving. F'bran! Thread falls unexpectedly at Tillek and High Reaches is already fighting elsewhere! You and Caprioth are needed! Suit up and get out there!"

F'bran's jaw worked, and he gave Saya's forearm a squeeze and jogged out of the room without a backward glance, following G'sas. Saya watched him go, worried. She knew of dragonrider's dedication to fighting Thread. She admired it. As she watched F'bran go, unquestioning of his duty, she told herself that she wanted to be as committed to protecting Pern and its people as he was. As Valianth would grow to be.

As she turned back around, she was suddenly facing Belled, Yikiz, Kewen, and Feteen--although apparently they now were B'led, Y'kiz, K'wen, and F'teen.

"Who're yours?" she asked them, knowing precisely why they had approached her.

She watched with amusement as their faces simultaneously cracked with smiles.

"Brown Hirth," B'led mumbled, flushed with joy as his face suffused with memories of Impression.

"Bronze Witarth," Y'kiz told them proudly, his eyes glinting.

"Blue Pelth," said K'wen, looking over his shoulder. Pelth was in view, a healthy-sized blue who was slumbering happily.

"Green Kabriith," F'teen said, grinning at her. He knew of their new similarity.

"Green Valianth," Saya said, treasuring the words as they escaped her lips. She saw their eyes change focus as they looked behind her to her sleeping green dragon.

"Congratulations," K'wen said sincerely. "I am glad you're a dragonrider, even if you didn't Impress the queen."

F'teen scowled at his fosterbrother; elbowed him. "She would have been a dragonrider regardless, even if she had to Impress a bronze."

"Bronzes aren't Impressed by girls!" Y'kiz said sharply, his brows furrowing. "You're talking nonsense."

Suddenly, there was a terrific rumbling roar as the dragons of Fort Weyr bellowed in unison, taking off to fight Thread over Tillek. The new Weyrlings stared up at the ceiling as if to see through it, to the ledges of the bowl, and witness the awesome sight of Wings of multicolored dragons churning the air to gain altitude. Saya sighed contentedly. Someday, she and Valianth would do that, in the company of friends.

The defiant bellows of their elders had roused the sleepy dragonets in their wallows, and each of them called out in response. It was a gratifying sound. Saya felt Valianth's mind awaken and sense for her rider, so she rushed off to tend to her beast.

G'sas had returned, looking slightly disgruntled at being left behind from the fighting to tend to the weyrlings. But he passed out jars of oil and instructed them on how to rub it into their dragons' hides, taking special care on spots around the neck and tail ridges.

"If you don't oil them properly for the next two months," G'sas reminded them coolly, "their hides will dry out and grow uneven, and then crack _between._"

It wasn't as if Saya resented this time to bond with Valianth, and she took pleasure in pouring and massaging the oil into the green hide.

_I itch terribly_, Valianth said. _My hind legs._

Obediently, Saya dabbed sweet oil where she directed and rubbed it in until the dragon's emerald skin gleamed brilliantly.

"It's only been six hours since your Hatching and I believe you've already grown," Saya told her playfully.

_I am a dragon. I am meant to be large,_ Valianth replied matter-of-factly, with a calmness that Saya adored.

"Indeed you are. You're the best, loveliest dragon on Pern, I'm sure of it," her rider told her fervently. "Just wait til you learn to fly."

Valianth expressed thoughts of happy anticipation of her first moments airborne.

"Are you hungry again?" Saya asked, noticing some other riders taking their beasts to the platters to eat once more.

_Yes._

And so, after making sure that Valianth was thoroughly and completely oiled, rider led dragon to a freshly slaughtered pile of herdbeast, and the young green feasted to her growing heart's content.

As she did so, Saya looked around and took in more of her surroundings for the first time. Her closest friends had indeed Impressed, although she had seen no sign of Ellan, but there were some she knew who were not in the Weyrling caverns. Disappointed, they had likely already been transported home. For one horrifying second, Saya wondered what would have happened had she not Impressed her joy, her Valianth. She swiftly pushed those thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the adventures ahead as she watched a full and jubilant Valianth waddle ungracefully back to her wallow.

Saya padded over to B'led, who stood over his sleeping brown, watching him soberly.

"B'led," she whispered, although she knew normal voices would not wake dragons.

B'led turned to smile briefly at her, his eyes flickering to her face.

"Hirth is a finely built beast," Saya said, although she was no judge on draconic anatomy and felt silly right as the words came out.

B'led nodded in agreement, love touching his features. "He is." Then, B'led paused. "My life before seems like merely a fallacy now. I never knew what completion was." His dark hair had fallen to shade his eyes, and he seemed to bear an air of seriousness that made Saya cock an eyebrow.

Then she nibbled her lip, as she usually did while in thought. She had been feeling the same way since her Impression; that life seemed revived, more purposeful and vivid.

"I--" she began, but cut off at the sight of S'del striding angrily toward them. Weyrlings parted as he passed, swinging arms that until now Saya hadn't realized were so thick and oafish.

B'led followed her gaze and immediately stiffened at S'del's furious expression, and, strangely, stepped half in front of Saya.

"Can we help you?" B'led demanded, coldly for his usually mellow personality; he had no right to speak in such a way to his superior.

"I must talk to Saya," S'del replied with equal amounts of ice. Saya looked at him, confused, and shot a glance at Valianth who was curled in her bed, practically unconscious.

S'del saw where she looked and did the same. As he saw the young green, his lips curled in a sneer that gave Saya the deep and horrendous urge to hit him in the mouth. But the repercussions would be nasty, and Saya didn't want to leave Valianth alone for the time she would spend scrubbing cavern floors with a tooth cleaner.

"So, that is your new partner?" S'del asked her in disgusted tones, without trying to disguise his contempt. "A green, is it? What's the lucky beast's name?"

Saya tried as hard as she could to find a reason in his words to snap back at him, but she could find nothing evident. "_She_," Saya answered semi-calmly, "is Valianth."

"Yes, she's lucky...lucky to have got you," S'del drawled.

B'led, forgotten or ignored, watched this conflict unfold with growing uneasiness. What quarrel could this dragonrider (still here when the Weyr was Threadfighting?) have with a weyrling?

Saya pushed past S'del, clenching her teeth, outraged at his instigations of Valianth's supposed "worthiness." But he seized the back of her tunic, causing B'led to cry out in apprehension.

"_Why_ did you choose her when you could have ridden a _Queen!_" S'del commanded, not loosening his hold. G'sas raised his head in alarm on the other side of the cavern.

S'del continued mercilessly. "You…you were meant to be a goldrider! I knew it! You were supposed to be…supposed to be! You are _wasted_ on that green, d'you hear me? _Sharding wasted_!"

His ranting and raving had awoken Valianth, who hissed and spread her wings as she immediately picked up on her rider's distress.

_What has upset you? Who is this man?_ she demanded of Saya, rising to her feet.

"Why do you care so much?" B'led asked, his voice shaky and uncertain. "There are four other girls who didn't stand for Inneth!"

As Saya realized how S'del had distraught her dragon, her indignation rose beyond mere irritation at his insults.

"You are wrong, S'del, and petty!" she spat, aware of and not caring about the audience of curious weyrlings they had attracted. "You call yourself a dragonrider? When you fuss and yell about superficial things like a dragon's color?"

S'del regarded her with sudden coolness, though he continuously trembled, withholding more anger.

Saya projected soothing thoughts to Valianth, whose eyes were flashing red and whose newly-sharp talons were extended unconsciously. _One moment, my dear, while I deal with this dimglow._

"And one more thing, S'del," she then hissed to the brownrider. She jerked out of his brittle grip. "_I_ am the lucky one. Begone, before you upset more dragons with your presence."

His lip twitched, and his fingers flexed; but he did not attack her. Instead, he whirled on one foot and exited the cavern, to Saya's immense satisfaction.

"What in the name of the Egg..." G'sas said into the silence that ensued. Saya, still fuming, ignored B'led's concerned query and strode with a vengeance back to her dragon. However, before she reached out to her beast, she condemned herself for acting foolish, and spent a minute calming her nerves.

_What is wrong? Tell me, _Valianth insisted, though she had settled considerably as Saya scratched her eye ridges.

"That rider, called S'del...he had a few issues to settle with me. I sent him along." Saya had never felt so empowered, so passionate. S'del had been wrong about her relationship with Valianth; she, Saya, was the one who was blessed, blessed to have Impressed such a green as Valianth. His stabs at her color were pathetic. Saya was already frustrated with the strange feelings of arrogance she felt directed at her. She had to do her best to support her dragon above them before the green adopted a debilitating attitude of dejection.


	4. Chapter 4

Dragon Rising

A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.

Note: Any incorrect facts, misspellings, or un-canon things…don't burn me. Please, just tell me, so I can fix it.

---Chapter IV----

Caprioth swerved suddenly to avoid a careening clump of Thread, causing F'bran to snatch at the riding straps as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

"Shards, Capri! We really are amateurs at this," he mused, with gentle humor to soothe his nerves. He and his great bronze soared with the Fort Wing under F'delten today, flying this unpredicted Fall at Tillek. The sky was a clear and vivid blue above them, although it was riddled with the great sheets of silvery Thread that rained down in their scourge. F'bran winced as he saw W'hep and his green Darinth take a frightening stab through the wing and blink _between,_ only to reappear moments later two dragonlengths away.

Then, Threadfall captured his attention again as Caprioth bugled in defiance of his ancient foe and dove bravely into a tangled mass that plummeted to the lands below. His dragon flamed sizzling breath, searing the enemy before it could penetrate Pernese soil. F'bran praised his dragon adamantly for emerging unscathed from such a battle, but Caprioth, fully engaged by his innate fierce spirit, only asked for more firestone.

F'bran obliged, and listened as the great jaws masticated and felt the muscles in the neck tighten to swallow it.

Fire, sear, demand, soar. There was a rhythm to fighting Thread that pulsed in the soul of every dragonrider. Before coming to Fort, F'bran had been ignorant of such a feeling. But it was nearly addicting; the freedom of riding a flaming dragon to battle and win against a mindless enemy.

Was the Fall already past? F'bran craned his neck in different directions, utilizing his keen vision to spot any clumps of Thread. Caprioth's muzzle was smoking but the dragon seemed pleased, and winged easily through the air to fly wingtip- to- wingtip with F'delten's Xornth, who reported that there had been no casualties this Fall. They were soon joined in formation by the remainder of the Wing, the mutual victory present in the confident wingbeats and bugles of the dragons and the grins of their riders.

_F'bran!_ Caprioth suddenly said, and the note of alarm in his voice snapped F'bran unpleasantly back to reality.

"What is it, Caprioth?" he asked quickly, as the dragon dipped out of formation to hover above a patch of scraggly trees, wings stroking silently.

_In the water._

They were flying off the coast of Tillek, a thumb of land that jutted out into icy northern waters. The fact that anything could be in the water that could attract his dragon's undivided attention made him extremely nervous, and as Caprioth glided out over the rocky coastline, he peered tensely into the dark green surf.

He nearly let go his grip on the straps. There, bobbing limply in the white- capped waves twenty dragonlengths offshore, was a lone man, the straps from his riding gear trailing off behind him in the currents. Near him floated the shape of a blue dragon, mostly submerged in the water except for his muzzle and one wingclaw. How the pair had got there and what state they were in, he could only guess.

_Xornth asks what's the delay,_ Caprioth told him as the two flapped in circles a few dragonlengths above the rider and dragon.

_Oh, quickly, Capri, tell Xornth and another to come here right this instant; there's an unconscious rider and his blue in the water,_ F'bran said to his dragon, feeling panic fluttering in his stomach and quelling it.

The Wingleader's great bronze appeared over the hill above the coast, along with A'wer and bronze Sarth.

_Xornth says F'delten's shocked._

"I would be too, thinking there were no casualties and then we find this poor bloke!"

_This rider is not of Fort._

Not of...? Now, how could that be? F'bran thought. "Can you bespeak his dragon?" he asked of his beast.

There was a pause, then,_ Both are unconscious. Sarth and Xornth say we're to lift them out. We are to take the rider._

"Agreed," F'bran said grimly, wondering how in the name of the Egg this could have happened. But he directed Caprioth to make a direct descent toward the dragonrider.

His dragon's muscles strained to keep them aloft such a small length above the water. Delicately, he reached out with his forepaws and wrapped them as gently as he could around the man's chest and knees.

Then, eager to be up into the open air again, the bronze gave two great beats of his wings and they rose in a spray of salty, frigid water, Caprioth grasping the unconscious rider.

"We can't take them _between_ when they're sopping like this," F'bran said, as he and Caprioth turned to watch Xornth and Sarth nudge tender hindclaws around the bases of the unfortunate blue's wings, so as not to pierce soft membrane. "We should land and warm them up. Tell our Wing to find a clear spot and start a fire."

_I have told them. We need to get this man warm._

It was early summer, and luckily the air temperatures did not necessarily emulate that of the north sea's waters. The weather was pleasant enough, but F'bran did not have high amounts of hope for the convalescent pair. The dragon wasn't dead, or the others would have dirged for him, but there was no telling how long they had been submerged in the cold, or how they had even managed to get there. Dragonriders didn't normally just fall from the sky. Perhaps it had been an accident going _bewteen._ If that was the case, the two could have been in much more trouble: solid rock.

Minutes after the fair of dragons descended toward the land, F'bran saw smoke rise from the fires they were obediently building.

Caprioth winged toward them on his own, the limbs of the rider dangling sickeningly.

As they landed, nearly every rider rushed toward them with questions and a complete disregard for the order that was necessary in the situation.

Exasperated, F'bran took action. "This rider and his dragon were found floating in the water offshore!" he yelled from atop Caprioth as the dragon carefully laid the man on the ground. "He's not of Fort. Take him and warm him up quickly."

F'bran knew he hadn't the authority or the experience to direct a Wing of dragonriders that way, but Xornth and F'delten were still dealing with the blue and the circumstances hadn't allowed for any more delays.

The redhead leaned wearily against his dragon, breathing, "Capri, I'm so glad you saw that man in the water from such an altitude. You are without a doubt the cleverest dragon on all Pern." He affectionately caressed the bronze's eye ridges, smiling as his eyes whirled blue with content and satisfaction. Caprioth was pleased with himself, but not overly so, F'bran thought, as most bronzes could be. Caprioth was, of course, the finest beast among them, but the dragon never seemed to exercise the rather arrogant mentality of many of his fellows.

When Xornth and Sarth winged their way over the ridge, there was a collective gasp among the grouped riders, and several of the dragons gave short, brassy calls.

The limp blue hung between the two bronzes, looking utterly broken. All lids were closed over his eyes, both sets of legs dangled like his rider's. F'bran cursed under his breath and yet again tried unsuccessfully to concieve what sort of tragedy had befallen the pair.

Xornth had apparently contacted two blue dragons and their riders from the Wing, for the four immediately stood and moved to face the descending ones, the blues crooning anxiously.

When the bronzes neared the ground, they immediately backwinged strongly to prevent the blue's neck from becoming bent. Carefully, they flew in reverse to drape the dragon along the ground, even flying back to snatch at his tail and make certain it was straight.

Then, the two blues settled themselves on either side of the third, curling up to lend their heat to their charge. Piles of wood and torches lit from other fires were brought and soon four strong blazes burned around the trio. The two conscious blues' eyes gleamed the yellow of worry.

F'delten approached F'bran, who was still stroking Caprioth off to one side. Both bronze riders stood together and quietly took in the breathtaking sunset that ironically splashed the sky after the five-hour Fall and tragic discovery. Around them, evergreen trees rose, giving the patch of sky above their spacious clearing a fringed and scalloped edge.

"Shards, but Caprioth has true dragon's vision," F'delten finally said, clapping a hand on the younger man's shoulder and smiling weakly. "You did well. Give your bronze my most sincere thanks." He hesitated, then went on. "These riders are exhausted from fighting Thread. I am reluctant to keep even a few caretakers here, but..." he trailed off.

F'bran chuckled. "Lelth doesn't look like she'll be abandoning our nameless rider anytime soon." F'delten turned to see the green sitting protectively next to the still-unconscious man, her forepaws cradling him by a roaring fire. Her whirling red eyes dared anyone but her own rider to approach.

"Still, I'm going to tell Xornth to direct the rest of the riders home. Lelth, Drianth and Sakarith and their riders will stay," F'delten explained, naming the blues who tended to the dragon. "As will you, A'wer and I. I'll ask someone to come back with provisions so we can set up to sleep here and hopefully," he said grimly, "get some life out of this pair."

News of the imperiled rider and dragon flew, literally, on dragonwings back to Fort Weyr, where it was spread and exaggerated amongst the residents over days and eventually reached Saya's ears in the form of F'teen and B'led.

"They say that the blue had been abducted by the Red Star and then thrown back down to Pern without a thought! And the blue's cry of terror somehow summoned his rider to his side!" F'teen exclaimed with an excitement that bordered on perverse.

"Not," B'led said, shooting a trenchant glance at his companion, "that we believe that tale. I heard Sh'ael, a brownrider from F'delten's Wing, telling the actual story to his weyrmate. A bronzerider and his dragon spotted the pair floating just off the coast up there in Tillek, and called others to aid. Some are still there, tending to them, three days later!"

"That sounds more believable," Saya replied, slathering oil on Valianth's hide. She had to admit that of the versions she had endured over the past few days, F'teen latest was the most bizarre. As if the Red Star had life with which to snatch a dragon from the surface of Pern.

Valianth had grown so much in such a short amount of time that whereas before she could sit comfortably and oil her dragon, Saya now had to stand to reach the top of her head. To massage her belly and feet, she had to squat uncomfortably. But, as a result of her dedicated efforts, Valianth's hide shined vividly, the hue of mature summer leaves.

"And they say green is an unlucky color," Saya muttered as she finished the oiling and stood back to admire a healthy Valianth.

_They also seem to say that the Red Star can capture dragons, _Valianth replied as she unfurled and stretched her growing wings.

Saya laughed at that, sharing the thought with B'led and F'teen who also appreciated the humor.

"Green is sharding beautiful," F'teen said loudly, looking over his shoulder at his slumbering Kabriith, who was of a shade lighter than Valianth but still handsome.

"I wish F'bran hadn't had to stay with those two, though," Saya voiced. She missed his company and guidance, although this time had given her practice with the unique sort of unified-independence that was characteristic of the Weyrs.

"I, for one, am curious as to how that bluerider ended up there in the first place. It's funny; if it hadn't been for that unexpected Fall..." B'led mused, absently finger-combing his brown-black locks.

Saya thought that was ironic, too: that a dragonrider should owe his life to the unpredictability of Thread that had drawn Fort to Tillek. She also harbored the hunch that it had been F'bran and Caprioth who had initially seen the endangered comrades, although there had been no specifics mentioned.

They were interrupted by Y'kiz, whose features had seemed to be enhanced after his Impression.

"Witarth and I are going to the pool to bathe," he told them. They all knew of the large, naturally warm spring that blessed a large cavern in Fort Weyr, but they had never seen it. "Do you want to come?"

"Are we allowed?" Saya asked, dubious.

"G'sas says that the dragons're now large enough to swim by themselves," he said, a glint in his eye. "Anyway, who'll take me up?"

_I could use a bath,_ Valianth informed her rider, who sighed.

"I just oiled you!" she exclaimed, but truly she had already resigned.

_The oil did its job. Dirt will only stick to it now._

"Fine, then," Saya said, but smiled.

It was a cumbersome task to weave through the inhabited tunnels and caverns of Fort Weyr with four unsteady dragons in tow. No longer true dragonets, not quite fledglings, they crawl-walked on their back legs, tails dragging behind them; the group received many a bewildered look. In fact, Saya was conscious of more than bewilderment directed at her.

Riders seemed to exchange glances as she passed, after giving Valianth a slightly disapproving look. She thought she glimpsed pity in the faces of cavern workers, and even, to her irritation, in a few bold drudges.

What's going on here? She thought, her annoyance reaching the level that she glared at a bronzerider when he cast her and her dragon a blatantly reproachful expression. Valianth seemed unconcerned by it all, so Saya did her best to disregard it. She was probably imagining things.

When the spring cavern was reached, luckily devoid of other riders, Valianth, Kabriith, Hirth, and Witarth eagerly splashed their way in, ungainly but happy.

Sacks of sweetsand in the corner were dispersed, and, after their dragons had cavorted for a time, each rider went to dutifully scrub his or her beast.

Valianth's eyes were whirling contentedly when Saya finished. Hurtling the empty sack to the rock, she simply stood in the water for a while, leaning against her Valianth, her joy.

_We are together,_ Valianth said simply, and the pair enjoyed that fact to its fullest.

Abruptly, Saya thought of Ellan, the girl-turned-Queenrider, a friend whom she had not seen since Impression. Undoubtedly, she was being kept separate from the Weyrlings since Queens required a special brand of care. Worries of her boredom or loneliness were quickly abolished as she knew: neither Saya nor Ellan would ever be alone again.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

Dragon Rising

A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.

note Any incorrect facts, misspellings, etc: please don't burn me. Just tell me, so I can fix it.

RECAP: Abruptly, Saya thought of Ellan, the girl-turned-Queenrider, a friend whom she had not seen since Impression. Undoubtedly, she was being kept separate from the Weyrlings since Queen's required a special brand of care. Worries of her boredom or loneliness were quickly abolished as she knew: neither Saya nor Ellan would ever be alone again.

---Chapter V----

And neither was Ellan bored, for tending to Inneth required much of her time and energy. Of this, however, she was all too glad, for Inneth had been the most wonderful thing to ever happen to her.

Her routine was thus: wake up, oil Inneth, eat breakfast, and perhaps bathe. Feed Inneth, oil her again, and then "Weyrwoman lessons" with Q'mil, who was kind yet rather taciturn. After those, Inneth was hungry again, so food was brought. Then Inneth liked a bath, after which the sun was invariably below the horizon and Ellan retreated to her cot, exhausted but completely content.

"When your queen rises to mate..." Q'mil was saying, as Ellan was watching dragons wing past the opening to her spacious weyr. Green, blue, brown, blue again, bronze, brown...such a fabulous blur of colors blended with the strength and intensity of dragons that she never tired of watching.

Especially her own golden beauty, who was currently fast asleep in a comfortable wallow just half a dragonlength away. Ellan had been humbled and, at the same time, given confidence when Inneth had turned her gleaming wedge-shaped head her way to Impress. Watching her now explode in growth to become the magnificent beast known as a queen dragon was breathtaking and awesome, an experience that she was cherishing with every fiber of her being. Undoubtedly, her fellows felt the same way about their own dragons.

She wondered, for the umpteenth time, what they were doing. Probably oiling and feeding and bathing like she was. Soon, though, she would join them on the fireheights to urge their dragons into the sky, although Inneth would not be taught to chew firestone like the others.

"...and you will become weyrmated to the rider of whichever bronze catches Inneth. Which, noting the size of her, will be an arduous task indeed," Q'mil finished nicely, grinning.

"I understand, Weyrleader," she told him with a preoccupied nod and smile. "I have no worries."

"Very good!" Q'mil said approvingly. "We'll continue tomorrow. My duty to you, Weyrwoman."

He was off to his waiting Gidrith. As the bronze launched himself from the ledge, Inneth stirred and was quickly alert.

Ellan rushed to her and knelt down beside the gold dragon, and would have rubbed her eye ridges to coax her back to sleep, but Inneth had other ideas.

_I'd like a bath,_ she said, standing and stretching her wings._ Can we go to the spring cavern?_

Ellan thought about it. She'd been cooped up in this weyr, no doubt, but since it was a fledgling queen's weyr, it wasn't elevated in the bowlside. Still, she was reluctant to leave after having so many safety precautions drilled into her by Q'mil and the senior Weyrwoman, Kliana.

"Are we allowed, though?" she said to her queen, laying one hand on the beautiful neck.

_I am a queen. Of course we're allowed,_ Inneth said, rising to her back legs. When she stood in that fashion, her shoulder was level with Ellan's browbone.

"Allright, then, my golden beauty," Ellan surrendered, unable to resist the thought of a nice wet frolic in Fort's renowned spring pool. "But you'll have to waddle dreadfully, until we learn to fly."

So Ellan walked, cautiously at first, out of her weyr, but then, followed by an awkward Inneth, they made their way toward the spring.

When they finally arrived, the young Weyrwoman was immensely relieved. They had endured so many formal bows and salutes on the journey that Ellan was beginning to think that her seclusion in the weyr had been a blessing. But, upon seeing four other Weyrlings and their dragons already in the water, her weariness melted.

"Saya!" she called as Inneth, groaning with pleasure, splashed into the warm waters and splashed under, her jewel-like eyes glowing intensely underneath the surface.

Ellan's slight, good-natured friend turned from where she was lolling against her green dragon and, upon seeing the other girl, braced against her beast and hailed her happily. The other three riders--B'led, Y'kiz, and F'teen-- also called greetings from where they were scrubbing their dragons.

"Ellan! Where've you been!" Saya shouted to her, wading through the water.

Ellan collected a bag of sweetsand before jumping in to embrace her much-missed friend. "Tending to 'Weyrwoman duties', which basically means Inneth!" she said.

Saya laughed, peeling wet pieces of hair from her face. Saya had lovely hair, deep reddish-brown, which Ellan often saw her tie back unceremoniously into a knot at her neck.

"And I guess she fancied a bath?" Saya asked, lifting a hand to the queen, who now stood next to Valianth, patiently awaiting her scrub.

"Ah, yes. And your green, too? I never learned her name! Such a pretty shade!" Ellan exclaimed, truly quite taken with Saya's dragon. She was thrilled to finally learn what had become of her friends. She swept her eyes over her other friends and their dragons; Y'kiz and his bronze, B'led with his now-spotless brown, and F'teen with another green, although Ellan had the opinion that her hide was not quite as fine as Saya's dragon's.

_Her name is Valianth,_ Inneth stated, touching noses briefly with Saya's green. Valianth crooned in greeting to the queen, but then turning to dive under the water, rinsing off any remaining sand.

Ellan slapped handfuls of the stuff onto Inneth's hide, rubbing in wide circles. Saya stood nearby, evidently not wanting to disrupt the ritualistic sense of the bathing. Valianth surfaced noisily a few dragonlengths away, fanning her wings in glee.

"So, are you excited about learning to fly and go _bewteen, _whenever that'll happen?" Saya asked Ellan as the queenrider scrubbed at a particularly stubborn bit of dirt on Inneth's right hind leg, which the dragon had courteously raised.

"Inneth, for her part, can hardly wait," Ellan replied with a smile. "It does sound better than sitting around in the weyr. You know it won't happen for some months, though."

"The dragons are growing so fast," Saya said thoughtfully. "Hopefully, taking care of them will make the sevendays fly faster..."

"Imagine how massive they'll be once they're full grown," Ellan murmured, gazing tenderly up at Inneth, whose eyes whirled greeny-blue. How she adored her dragon, and how formidable a beast she would soon be, claiming the skies and serving her Weyr. Inneth curved her neck to nuzzle her friend gently and informed her than she itched horribly along the other side of her back. Ellan dutifully waded to her dragon's other side and set to scrubbing, watching Saya also make her way back to Valianth.

The green dragon was dripping wet and obliged Saya with a snort of warm water all over the girl's body, before the greenrider scooped up some leftover sweetsand and began to scour her own skin and hair.

Ellan grimaced, thinking how much more of Inneth there was to scrub than the smaller dragons. Still, she was pleased with the occupation, and the sight of Inneth's eyes spiraling with rainbows eased away any bitterness.

By the time she was finished, the other four riders were floating leisurely about the spring, their dragons flopping and sighing lazily.

Inneth gazed lovingly at Ellan with her many-faceted orbs. _Thank you, Ellan. I love you and now we can play._

_Of course, queen of my heart, _Ellan responded. The golden dragon dove with a flick of her tail into the deeper part of the spring, her head and neck bursting from the water just beyond Saya and Valianth.

Suddenly, Saya perked up, quickening her tread-water pace. "Caprioth has bespoken Valianth," she announced, and she suddenly had the full attention of B'led, Y'kiz, F'teen, and Ellan. "He says that the bluerider has awoken, but his dragon's in a fine state." She looked confused. "Though why F'bran would think it necessary to tell _me_ that..."

B'led was already deep in conversation with F'teen, the latter of which was suggesting that they bribe a dragonrider to fly them to Tillek, since their own dragons were too small yet. B'led was glowering and adamantly refusing F'teen's ideas, telling him that he'd be a fool to leave Kabriith for any amount of time at this point.

Ellan privately agreed with the young brownrider on their duties to their dragons. Let the mature riders handle this mysterious situation; no doubt, in the unlikely even the Weyrlings' assistance was needed, they'd be contacted immediately.

"I'll ask F'bran for a report if he ever gets back," Saya told her companions, still wearing a slightly puzzled expression on her face. She gathered her hair, darkened with moisture, and wringed out excess water before slinging it over a shoulder and gathering the empty sweetsand sack. "C'mon, Valianth," she called to her dragon. Their group began to file out of the cavern, having been there longer, leaving Ellan and Inneth to their ministrations.

"We'll see each other again soon, I'd suppose," Saya shouted to Ellan before she left, smiling. The last thing to leave the cavern was the tip of Valianth's green tail.

Drianth and Sakarith bugled, the first warning of a change in the state of the invalid rider and his blue. Lelth was not long in following with a bellow of her own, rising to her feet as the rider she had been protecting groaned.

F'bran and F'delten hastened to the man, who lay upon the ground, almost clinging to it as if in fear. A'wer went to see to the blue. Zadrical, a healer who had joined them with the dragon who brought provisions, squatted next to the rider, whose eyes were still clamped shut.

_Caprioth,_ F'bran said silently to his dragon. _Please ask Valianth to tell Saya that the bluerider has woken up. _F'bran liked Saya, and wanted to be sure she got a prompt and accurate update that wasn't impeded or distorted by others.

Zadrical hefted the sizeable bag of remedies and herbs he had brought with him upon hearing of the mystery-rider's plight. An expert in treating cold-borne ills, the middle-aged man had barely relaxed his vigilance over his patient since the moment he arrived.

The healer produced a glass tube full of something that F'bran guessed was pungent, and was he wise in covering his nose and mouth with his tunic as Zadrical smashed the top off the tube. It released a burning odor, and he held it firmly underneath the convalescent's nose.

His breath turned into a pained snort and a bout of hacking and attempts at raising arms weaker than a babe's. F'bran decided that this was an improvement on what the man's behavior had been over the past three days: absolutely nonexistent. He laid there in Lelth's cradle by a fire, taking shallow breaths, the bluish tinge of his skin slowly fading, mousy hair lying flat along his head.

Now his eyes fluttered open, revealing them to be light brown in color, but highly confused.

"Klaranth?" was his first garbled word, gasped out in a raspy voice dull from disuse.

"Your blue is being taken care of," F'delten answered instantly. F'bran suddenly felt rather superfluous.

"What in the name of Faranth happened to you, man!" F'bran could not help but ask, a note of hysterical curiosity sliding into his voice; the young rider endured a long, hard look from Zadrical, who once again shoved the glass tube filled with herbs at his patient's unfortunate nose.

The rider's eyes had relaxed slightly at F'delten assurance, but his eyes took on a slightly wild look at hearing F'bran's inquiry.

"I don't...know," he said, after a considerable pause. F'delten and F'bran exchanged glances, but Zadrical seemed unconcerned. The healer had thoroughly checked the unnamed dragonrider for external wounds when he had arrived, but had found nothing but a few bruises which were thoroughly coated with numbweed. Then, he had firmly stated that he was not to go between until conscious.

"Are you thirsty?" the healer asked.

The rider nodded. Zadrical produced a wineskin of good Benden vintage and proffered it. The rider was so weak he could barely raise his head, so Zadrical patiently dribbled drops of the liquid into his mouth.

"What is your name, dragonrider?" F'delten asked when the wineskin was put away.

The man's face pinched for a second. "Can't remember...I don't remember. Where am I? Where's Klaranth?"

F'bran felt a cold, sickening sensation, as if plunged into a lake of sandworms.

F'delten looked sharply at Zadrical. "How could the man not remember his own name?" the bronzerider demanded.

"He seems to remember his dragon's," F'bran commented. "Perhaps if we ask Klaranth...?"

F'delten liked the sound of that idea, and his eyes glazed over for a few moments while he bespoke his dragon. After a while, he shook his head in anxious disappointment. "Xornth says that Klaranth, while he can recall his own name as well, doesn't remember a mite more than his rider here. The blue asked to see him."

The two dragonmen looked at Zadrical, whose eyes looked tired. "We'll have to help him," the healer said tightly.

So the two riders each supported a side of their unknown comrade, Zadrical lifting him at his knees with unexpected strength. The three staggered over to where Drianth and Sakarith guarded the convalescent blue.

Dusk was falling in Tillek, casting a purplish hue to the sky above the expansive clearing. The Dawn Sisters twinkled in their spot, nearly drowned out in the sky by the throbbing light of the Passing Red Star. Around them, the forests were nearly black and silent, punctuated occasionally by rustles. The men's minds were comfortable, though, for no creature on Pern would dare attack a dragon.

Klaranth still lay in the position the bronzes had laid him in, though all his lids had slid open to reveal his many-faceted eyes glowing a dim purple.

F'bran, F'delten, and Zadrical tried to let the rider down smoothly, but he was so desperate to get to his dragon that, tapping new reserves of strength, he wrenched from their grips and stumbled to his knees. Crawling through the dirt, the dragonman flung his arms around his blue's head, whispering. Klaranth's eyes abruptly changed from purple to green-blue, although still faint, and he released a weak croon. The rider clung to his beast, murmuring softly. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

F'bran and the others watched somberly for several minutes, knowing the importance of a man's bond with his dragon. F'bran, for one, could hardly breathe for empathy. What unfortunate fate had life dealt these poor beings? A rippling shudder crawled down his back as he thought of how close the two had come to losing each other. The thought of Caprioth in such a pitiful state set his heart to aching.

Finally, F'bran moved to squat down next to the rider. "My duty to you, dragonman," he said. The rider pulled back from Klaranth and stared at him. "What Weyr are you from?" F'bran went on to ask patiently.

"I don't know."

"Do you know what a Weyr is?"

"Yes."

"What are the six Weyrs of Pern?"

"I don't know."

"Do you have a weyrmate?"

At this, the man's eyes widened slightly, and the words that escaped his mouth were more hushed, more deliberate. "I...don't know."

F'bran sighed. "Does Klaranth remember anything?"

"No. He is confused. Where are we? Please, I don't remember anything. Klaranth is all I have." His voice was erratic, cracking and quiet. He mumbled to his blue, eyes closed.

Zadrical intervened to pull the two riders aside. "He has amnesia," the healer stated, his face half-painted with shadows in the falling night. F'bran and F'delten stared blankly back at him. "He can't remember anything that's happened in his life before now. Well, he might remember some things, like his dragon's name, but we don't know what they are, or how to tap the rest," Zadrical explained with a slightly frustrated tone, and kneaded his temples with broad fingertips. "His amnesia is the sort where he still recalls basic things, like what Weyrs, and trees, and people, and dragons are...but events, histories, faces...all lost."

"A fall into the water just knocked all his memories out of his mind?" F'delten asked, speaking with stunned disbelief.

"I don't think that water, even the time he spent adrift in it, could work such damage," Zadrical replied, deep in thought. "No, it's likely that he had some sort of previous trauma; that'd explain the sizeable bruise on the back of his head. That's probably what caused him to fall in the first place."

"I wonder what a lone dragonrider was doing in the skies of Tillek..." F'bran trailed off.

To be continued….


	6. Chapter 6

Inaccuracy, incredibility, or just plain issues? Let me know. Reviews appreciated!

RECAP:

"I don't think that water, even the time he spent adrift in it, could work such damage," Zadrical replied, deep in thought. "No, it's likely that he had some sort of previous trauma; that'd explain the sizeable bruise on the back of his head. That's probably what caused him to fall in the first place."

"I wonder what a lone dragonrider was doing in the skies of Tillek..." F'bran trailed off.

--Chapter VI--

There was silence for several minutes. In the background, the whispers of the rider to his dragon were nearly incessant.

"We're dimglows!" F'bran suddenly exclaimed loudly, causing the other two to jump and then glare at him. "We need to get all the Weyrleaders here! _One_ of them has to know this man."

F'delten's eyes lit up. "I call myself a Wingleader!" he said, thumping F'bran on the back. "You may do the honor of contacting them. Tell them it's urgent."

_Caprioth,_ F'bran once again roused his dragon, who had been sleepily regarding the whole scenario from a temporary wallow by the edge of the clearing. _We need your help._

_Anything._

_Please contact the queens at Telgar, Benden, Ista, Igen, and High Reaches Weyrs. Tell them we require the presence of the Weyrleader in Tillek--simply give them the image of this place._

_Weyrwomen too?_

_If they wish._

A lengthy pause, then, _They know and are coming. Teyath and Orieth weren't pleased at the call._

F'bran chuckled, knowing that the queens of Benden and Telgar Weyrs had likely been sleeping. _It's okay, Capri. It's late already at their Weyrs and they're bound to be grumpy. You did marvelously._

He turned to F'delten, and said proudly, "They're on their way."

"Sharding good," F'delten said. Zadrical had moved to kneel by the rider, yet again offering him another skin and demanding that he get some food in his body before he collapsed.

"We don't know how long you were in that water and you've already gone three days without nourishment. How you even have the strength to stand is beyond my comprehension," he was lecturing sharply, pulling the man back on his rear and then forcibly wrapping a fur around his body. He then made the man drink the contents of the skin, which turned out to be a lukewarm broth.

"Klaranth is hungry," the man said, in a slightly more melodious voice now that his throat had been lubricated. "He needs food. Will someone hunt for him? He's too weak to lift his wings." He stroked the blue's eye ridges with what little strength he had.

Funny, thought F'bran. The man didn't seem the least bit concerned about his lack of memories but was going to worry himself into bits over his dragon. True, the blue was in great need of care, but the best remedy that had yet been given him was the touch of his rider. Already, Klaranth could raise his head.

Drianth and Sakarith were still wedged firmly against the invalid beast's body. Their eyes whirled yellow as Klaranth hissed softly, bound by his illness.

F'delten had just finished sending A'wer and Sarth off to fetch food for the blue from Fort when the air was suddenly full of bellows. Xornth and Caprioth raised their heads to bugle welcomes, which were answered deafeningly by five massive bronzes and three golden queens that had erupted into the fading sky. Each circled lower thrice before backwinging and landing deftly in the clearing, lowering shoulders to discharge their riders, Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen of Pern.

S'riat and his Weyrwoman Renda of Benden were the first to reach their little group, overseen by the three blues.

"What is going on here, F'delten," S'riat asked calmly of the Wingleader, "that we were called from our furs at such an hour?"

"Yes, I'd like to know, as well," called J'mis of Telgar as he strode to join them, unaccompanied by his Weyrwoman.

Not far behind the fast-footed two were W'rizz of High Reaches Weyr and his Weyrwoman Zerai, P'tru of Igen, and L'dan of Ista with his Weyrwoman, Keletha. Each swiftly repeated the inquiries of Benden and Telgar, giving F'delten no chance to reply and several hard stares from eyes dull with sleep.

So, F'delten and F'bran waited patiently for the greetings amongst the arrivals to die down, and then Fort Wingleader began, with the young bronzerider standing humbly to one side.

"Thank you for answering our summons so swiftly, Weyrpeople of Pern," F'delten said to the group, catching F'bran's eye as he spoke his improvised title and grinning. "There is an important issue here on the grounds of Tillek, in the form of this rider and his blue." He stepped back to allow the Weyrleaders to view the unnamed dragonman, curled in a fur against his dragon's neck. "Fort riders found this man drifting in the water off the coast three days ago. He's only just regained consciousness, but he doesn't seem to remember his name, or, as much as we can figure out, anything else aside from his dragon's name, Klaranth. We ask, do any of you recognize this dragonrider?"

The silence that followed as the "Weyrpeople" scrutinized the poor man was not heartening. Zadrical leaned to whisper to F'bran, "You'd think they would recall if one of their riders had gone missing."

Finally, S'riat extracted himself from the small group and went to kneel by the man, nodding to Klaranth as he did so. F'bran sighed and gazed at the sky as he realized that the Benden Weyrleader was going to try the same interrogation technique that had failed them minutes before.

"Dragonrider," S'riat began into the observant silence. "You don't recall your name?"

"No."

"What is my name?"

"I don't know."

"What is my position?"

"A Weyrleader."

"What are the five colors of dragons?"

The rider--he really needed a name, F'bran thought--hesitated. "Blue, green, brown, bronze, and...gold."

"How did you end up in the water off Tillek?"

"I don't know."

What Weyr did you belong to?"

"I don't know. I don't remember."

"Let me list them for you. High Reaches? Igen? Ista? Benden? Telgar? Fort?"

"Fort..." the man echoed. "There was something...about...Fort..."

S'riat looked sharply at F'delten, who was wide-eyed. "He was identified as not of Fort Weyr the moment we found him, Weyrleader," he said. "If you wish, we could call Q'mil here to make certain."

J'mis called, "Do it at once!" There was general assent from the rest.

So, Xornth bespoke Fylanth and requested the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman's presence in a small clearing off the coast of Tillek in the late evening.

During that time, Sarth burst back into the air with A'wer on his neck and a dead wherry dangling grotesquely from his foreclaws. A'wer was startled by their new company, but bowed respectfully to the leaders before he and Sarth began tearing into the wherry, creating meaty shreds for Klaranth to eat.

Q'mil and Kliana were rapid in their arrival, their dragons landing briskly on the cold ground. When proper greetings had been made, F'delten explained the oddity to Q'mil.

"This is the convalescent rider and dragon found off Tillek, Weyrleader..."

"Yes..." Q'mil frowned.

"He has something called amnesia, where he can't remember any events or people in his life from before the moment he awakened. He doesn't recall his name, his Weyr, anything but his dragon. But he seems to have some association with Fort. Are we certain that he isn't of our Weyr, Weyrleader?"

Q'mil looked closely at the dragonrider. "No, I'm quite sure that this man is not a rider of Fort." He stopped; then continued somewhat pleadingly. "And his dragon remembers nothing, either?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"May we return to our Weyrs?" asked L'dan of Ista, somewhat bitterly.

"Certainly, you may go. Thank you for your assistance," Kliana told them demurely, and the leaders of the other five Weyrs departed.

"He'll come to weyr at Fort, then," Q'mil announced, his mind made up.

F'bran wasn't surprised. He had observed all the happenings carefully from the side, and had seen Q'mil's slight embarrassment at the rider seeming to know Fort and his own lack of recognition.

"You'll also need a name, man," Q'mil said loudly. The weak rider was feverishly watching the two blueriders of Drianth and Sakarith piling meat for Klaranth to swallow gratefully.

"L'orre," Q'mil stated simply. "Is that a suitable name?"

Newly-dubbed L'orre shrugged.

"Well, L'orre, you'll be riding with F'bran on Caprioth back to Fort." Once again, a shadow of tight confusion passed over L'orre's face, but he nodded.

"And Klaranth?" he rasped.

"Will be lifted as carefully as possible by Xornth and Sarth; he's still as weak as you are. You and your dragon will take up residence in Fort until something can be done about your condition. Do you remember how to fight Thread?"

Klaranth perked up at that, L'orre's face was taken with the briefest smile F'bran had ever seen. "Yes, I remember how to do that," the bluerider said slowly.

Zadrical helped the shaky man to his feet, where they hobbled together with F'bran back toward where Caprioth had risen to his haunches and was stretching great wings as if to brush the velvety-black sky. The bronze then crouched affably low, dipping a shoulder almost to the ground as L'orre, already looking pale and sweaty, was lifted to sit between neck ridges. F'bran hoisted himself up in front of him and instructed the man to hold tight to his waist.

Caprioth launched himself into the star-studded night sky of Tillek, watched by the iridescent green eyes of the dragons still on the ground. F'bran silently wondered at what a fiasco he and his dragon's unexpected find had expanded into. No doubt the Weyr would be in an uproar, and poor L'orre would probably be plagued with visitors from all Pern claiming to have remedies for his amnesia when all he really needed was sleep and a lot of food.

The trip _bewteen_ was a relatively short one, and when they burst into the air over the bowl of Fort Weyr, the green watchdragon's query sounded oddly muffled in the deep night air.

Q'mil had given him instructions to house L'orre in a vacant weyr fairly near the base of the bowl, so it would be little more than a fluttering jump down for Klaranth if he wished to bathe or stretch his wings. F'bran directed Caprioth to land on the scarred ledge of the weyr, and then the rider quickly helped the other, who was fading fast, down and to a thick pile of discarded sleeping furs.

_Thanks, Capri. Will you wait while I get L'orre here something to eat and drink? _F'bran asked of his dragon.

_Of course,_ the Caprioth replied sleepily. _But I have missed our weyr, and my own bed._

_So have I, my friend. Those nights sleeping under the open sky were enough for a lifetime. But, we must wait a few more minutes. You might want to make room for Xornth and Sarth to land with Klaranth._

Caprioth ducked his head and moved neatly into the weyr, leaving the ledge open for the three dragons.

F'bran collected a skin of mulled wine and some meatrolls from kitchens, ignoring the drudges' puzzled looks and heading back with single-minded determination to the weyr.

By that time, F'delten and A'wer had arrived with a very tired and sated Klaranth, his belly bulging roundly from consumed meat. The blue crooned anxiously at his rider before managing to drag himself to the wallow and fall instantly into a deep sleep.

F'bran offered L'orre the food and wine, who took them gratefully and downed them with starved ferocity.

"My duty to you." F'bran dipped his head to the man and left quickly on Caprioth. Something about L'orre's heavy and troubled stare unnerved him.

Back in their weyr, both dragon and rider fell into their beds and slept, weary from the day.


	7. Chapter 7

Dragon Rising

A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.

---Chapter VII---

"Six months in this Weyr, and you'd think I'd know where to find extra oil," Saya muttered to herself, her irritation increasing as her hair decided to spring free from its tail and frame her face with clingy wisps.

She was a fairly tall girl, and she was forced to stretch to her full height, balancing on the balls of her feet, to see the topmost shelf of a set in the supply cavern. Her muscles, now lengthened and toned by endless running about and preparations for flight, extended throughout her entire body as she strained to grasp one of the jars she saw upon the shelf. The stiff and scratchy man's tunic she was wearing did not help with the process.

"Let me help you," called a masculine voice, not quite amused in tone. Saya turned quickly from the shelf, dropping back to a steady posture. A bluerider, judging from the man's knots, was standing behind her, his expression not mocking but steeped in sincerity. She frowned slightly at his eyes, noting their peculiar dullness underneath his mousy hair.

He set the bucket of numbweed he'd been carrying on the ground and moved to aid her. He was a hand taller than she, and reached the jar of oil easily, grimacing as a muscle cramped in his shoulder. He handed it to her and hefted his bucket again, plainly intending to be off.

"Saya, Valianth's rider," Saya said quickly to his retreating back, more surprised than affronted at his lack of introduction, for every rider she had met thus far in Fort had been eager to make an acquaintance, or even a friendship.

He turned again to face her, looking preoccupied.

"L'orre, Klaranth's rider," he replied, rather blandly. Saya thought him quite apart from the usual temperament of a dragonrider; very outgoing, amiable, and confident.

Belatedly, she realized that this was the disconsolate bluerider that F'bran and Caprioth had rescued in Tillek six months earlier. Rumors had been worming their unsightly way throughout those riders not intimate with the happenings, so not much fact was known about the man other than the fact that he was affected with amnesia.

Then, she scolded herself for leaving him standing there while she ran through her thoughts. "How fares Klaranth?" she asked kindly, knowing that the unfortunate blue had been having difficulty regaining his ability to fly. It was still, after all this time, unsure what precisely had caused the dragon to plunge into the sea.

"He eats well; he says his wings are getting stronger. We're due to fly with the Weyrlings next sevenday."

"The Weyrlings are flying next sevenday?" Saya exclaimed, excitement immediately riveting her nerves like white fire. Of course, the dragonets had already been airborne on their own, riderless but graceful and exultant in the freedom of the sky. Saya reveled in the memory of Valianth's first leap from the top of the bowl, her developing muscles flexing underneath her smooth hide.

"That's what I've heard," L'orre said, with much less emotion than Saya. Then, he squinted at her. "You're the girl who Impressed to the green when you were a Queen candidate, aren't you?"

Saya instantly became rigid with annoyance. "I was a Candidate for the queen originally, yes," she said tartly. Why was it that people viewed her as some sort of disappointment, apart from the other girls who had not Impressed Inneth? She rode—well, would soon ride—a fighting dragon, an agile one, invaluable in Threadfall. "But Valianth is my partner. I wouldn't change that, ever."

L'orre's mouth thinned. "Of course," he said. "My duty to you." With that, he spun and shuffled out of the room, numbweed slopping in his bucket.

Though Saya was outwardly snappish, inside she despaired at his contempt. The amnesic rider with an invalid blue, who, it was heard, rarely spoke to anyone, had displayed a remarkable amount of emotion only to put her down.

He had certainly not been the first to speak to her in such a condescending way. Though most of the dragonriders at Fort were very kind to her, she couldn't help but feel a bit like an outcast. The strange way in which some regarded her was one she couldn't identify but was effective at discomfiting her.

At first she contributed it to an overactive imagination, impulses stimulated by Valianth's constant and sharp mental presence. She looked closely to see if it was the same way with other Weyrlings. And though she felt guilty and hypocritical doing it, she had observed dealings involving other greenriders, to ascertain if perhaps this was an attitude all those riding greens would have to endure.

But she could find not a single similar case.

_Saya_, Valianth said to her at that moment, reminding the girl that she had rider duties to fulfill. She hurried out of the kitchen to where her dragon was sitting on her haunches outside the entrance to the Weyrling caverns.

Saya hadn't neglected regular oiling, baths, and feeding in the slightest. A very healthy dragon sat there with her long neck extended, green hide gleaming in the pale winter sunlight, head tilted to stare into the sky. Valianth had grown explosively, her shoulder now a good four handspans above Saya's, and her wedge-shaped head now the size of Saya's entire torso. She was a very beautiful dragon, Saya thought for the dozenth time that week, as she opened the oil jar and proceeded to massage it into the hide.

_You were delayed,_ Valianth said, lowering her head and bending her neck to look at her. _By the bluerider? _There was interest in her tone.

"He helped me get this oil off a shelf for you," Saya replied semi-calmly, hoping that her annoyance wasn't filtering through to her friend.

_He does not remember things. That is unfortunate,_ Valianth went on with the subject. _Klaranth will not speak to anyone but his rider._

"Have you tried speaking to him, Valianth?" Saya asked, curious.

_Gidrith, Fylanth, and Caprioth have tried. If he will not speak to them, he will not acknowledge me, _her friend replied, sounding unperturbed.

Thoughtfully, Saya rubbed a palmful of sweet oil onto a rough patch at the base of Valianth's neck.

"I would say you should try, but I feel like Klaranth and L'orre may want more privacy right now."

_I agree._

Saya changed the subject. "L'orre did tell me that we're _all_ going to be learning to fly next sevenday!" She smiled at her green in anticipation.

_To fly with you!_ Valianth echoed happily. _And to chew firestone?_

"I don't know! But likely to go _between."_

_That will be fun,_ Valianth stated. She gave a short bugle, which reverberated up into the Weyr bowl, and spread her translucent green wings. It was an impressive span, one that couldn't wait to beat at the air and gain altitude, gliding on warm, smooth currents.

The dragon's enthusiasm was infectious, and soon Saya found herself grinning and thumping her green on the back, climbing up to perch between her neck ridges as she had often done as soon as Valianth had gotten large enough. The dragon rumbled, and Saya forgot any dismay in the deep contentedness that now surrounded her. She cherished this bond, and in indulging in these moments, she could let go of worry and be unencumbered. Valianth was pure, and devoted to her; never had Saya felt such friendship and love.

Later that evening, when the dragons were asleep and the confines of the weyrling caverns were lit with substantial glows, Saya informed B'led and Y'kiz about what she had learned.

"Next sevenday?" B'led whispered excitedly.

"Our dragons have grown so large! It makes sense. They can't keep us cooped up here forever," Y'kiz added.

"I'm not sure if we're even supposed to know this," Saya told them carefully.

"Why not?" Y'kiz demanded. "Six long months…"

"There's no real reason why not," B'led answered coolly. "But who knows what they think?"

Saya shared their sentiments, but kept it to herself. She had decided that this was often a wise course of action, as one of the Weyr's nastier habits was to spread gossip. She said, with a hint of a nervous smile, "At any rate, I'm not even sure of my source. But I hope it's true, because it's about time that I rode Valianth like a proper dragonrider."

"We're still Weyrlings for seven months," Y'kiz grumbled.

"And a good thing, too, because we haven't even learned to use firestone yet. It'd be quite tragic for you and Witarth to burn down a forest doing unauthorized maneuvers," B'led countered.

Saya chuckled, not really sure if B'led had been speaking lightly or not. That was the way his personality functioned.

"True," she agreed. Then she said, "I wonder if Ellan and Inneth will be joining us in flight?"

"Not in firestone-chewing," K'wen, who had just joined them in their council by the wall, interjected. "Inneth would become sterile."

"We aren't stupid, K'wen," Y'kiz told him sharply. Saya regarded them both, hoping that nothing would escalate.

"With any luck," B'led said seriously to Saya, "our generation's Weyrwoman will be able to come out of her seclusion."

Saya rubbed her arms absently. "She has been kept rather separate from the rest of us, hasn't she?"

Nods answered from her companions.

"I wonder if she's anxious?" K'wen mused aloud.

"Are you?" Y'kiz demanded, a challenging look in his eye.

Saya thought inwardly of her own substantial tension. She was most worried about somehow harming Valianth through her incompetence.

_Will I be a good dragonrider?_ She thought.

"Well I don't think we'll be turning loops in the sky," B'led told them steadily.

"But going _between?"_ K'wen asked.

"I don't know."

"It's a sevenday from now, anyway," Y'kiz told them. Saya made a noise of affirmation.

B'led abruptly rose, saying, "Hirth's restless. My, er, duty to you."

Saya and the others grinned at how awkward the phrase sounded on the tongue. Were they even allowed to use it?

The three then bid goodnight to each other. Saya retired gratefully to her soft furs a few hands away from Valianth's sleeping bulk. The green's forepaws twitched in a dream, and Saya watched her tenderly for a few moments before resting her head to slumber.

Fort Weyr flew Threadfall the next day. Saya managed to sneak away from G'sas before he could assign her a meticulous task, and she wound her way through the rest of the lower caverns and stood just under an arching entrance at the base of the bowl to watch the Wings take flight. It was an early Fall, and the sky was just barely tinged pink, mingled with a cool green; a stunning background against which the dragons of the Weyr rose in a collective roar. Saya could feel the breeze stirred by the beats of their wings flow down into the Weyr bowl and flutter against her clothing.

"Saya?"

She turned, a smile still lingering on her lips, to face B'led, who raised an eyebrow. Saya shrugged, and gestured at the now-empty sky, and, understanding, her friend's face relaxed and his mouth twitched. Then, he shifted the two heavy jars he held, one under each arm. "Hirth's feeding, and G'sas put me on numbweed duty. I have to go collect it from the lower caverns."

Saya grimaced. "Here," she said, holding out her hands. B'led gave her a jar gratefully. As it was transferred, Saya noticed a thin, red line running across the flesh between B'led's index finger and thumb; a cut, freshly healed.

"How did you manage that?" she asked, brows furrowing in concern. There were many ways to injure oneself in a Weyr, that couldn't be denied; but such a precise laceration was odd.

B'led glanced up at the lightening sky above them. "I dropped one of these jars yesterday, and a piece sliced me." He then looked regretful. "I hardly expected G'sas to give me this particular job again."

Saya laughed. "Aren't you lucky? Come on, let's go fetch it, and hopefully there'll be no more chores left once we return."

They turned together to make their way down to the ever-simmering cauldron of numbweed, located in the central kitchen over an enormous hearth.

"Do you normally come up here in the mornings when they leave for Fall?" B'led inquired, his pace slightly uneven because his balance was thrown off by the jar.

"When they fly early like this," Saya replied. "There's something…breathtaking, about watching them go off like that. Although I'm sure it's not all glorious and beautiful."

B'led nodded gravely. "Probably not."

"But even so, six months later…" she trailed off. B'led nodded.

"Still seems surreal?"

"Yes! Except for…"

"Except for what?"

Saya bit her lip. She hadn't intended the last part to be heard; she hadn't even intended to voice it. But somehow, she still felt somewhat confused by the strange projections of disappointment she sensed towards her. She looked up at B'led, who observed her calmly, but with worry in his eyes.

"Just the, ah, time involved. It feels like we've been waiting so long to really become dragonriders."

B'led pressed his lips together for a moment, but then turned his gaze to the ground and, murmuring, "Heh. Not very patient, are you?"

She grinned, and felt a slight flash of guilt for lying to him. However, a moment of ethical weakness was better than burdening him for what was likely all in her mind.


	8. Chapter 8

Dragon Rising

A fanfiction by Plikkit based on the novels by Anne McCaffrey.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people, places, or concepts of Pern. Those are solely credited to Anne McCaffrey, in all her wonderful talent.

Issues or suggestions? Please let me know. Sometimes I feel like I'm bumbling around in the canon area.

---Chapter VIII----

They reached the cauldron after encountering little other evidence of life, and quickly filled their buckets with the warm, gooey salve.

"F'bran introduced me to this stuff right after Hatching," Saya said as they began to head back to the Weyrling caverns. She ran fingertips lightly over the fading scar on her cheekbone, a tangible memory of Inneth's zealous birth.

"F'bran?"

"A friend of mine; the first dragonrider I ever met." Then she frowned, recalling S'del. "Well, the first decent one. Remember, you met him once, before Hatching. He's off fighting Thread right now, though."

At that point, a harried-looking young woman brushed roughly past her, and Saya spun on one heel, numbweed sloshing dangerously. B'led threw out a hand to grab her elbow and steady her, and then they both stood and stared after the woman. Saya's heart fluttered from the shock.

"That's interesting," B'led said quietly. He and Saya exchanged a swift set of glances, and then they both followed determinedly.

Whatever was on the woman's mind was apparently so intense that she didn't notice the two Weyrlings trailing her, hobbling awkwardly with heavy jars of numbweed. Saya watched her extract a roll of white cloth from somewhere in her clothing, and, cursing, unceremoniously knot her hair back at the nape of her neck.

The young Weyrling's curiosity increased and she quickened her pace, B'led following suit.

However, when they entered the cavern that their guide had disappeared into, all expectations drained almost audibly from their bodies.

"Shards…" B'led said hoarsely.

The smell of burnt flesh was revolting. The expressions on the faces of everyone there were tense and strained. And, most horribly, the moans of the dragonrider cradling his beast's head seemed to carry above all other shouted dialogue.

A brown dragon lay on the floor of the cavern, a pitiful position for such a mighty creature. But what mostly captured Saya's aghast attention were his Threadscores; numerous, deep, and smoking. The rider of the poor beast sported scores of his own, across his shoulders and back, but he refused any request to get up. He sat there and stroked the ridges of his dragon's eyes, muttering to him.

"That quick?" B'led whispered. "So early into Fall?"

Saya was shocked. This dragon had been badly injured fighting Thread, and had had enough presence of mind to go _between_ back to the Weyr. But his condition looked terrible. His wings had been laced to shreds, his lovely brown hide streaked with oozing lines of black.

"We need more numbweed!" someone called out from behind the dragon. The various helpers looked amongst themselves, stricken at their lack of supplies.

Saya and B'led looked at each other grimly. "We have some!" Saya shouted, hefting the jar to place it within easy reach of the people.

An older woman, perhaps middle-aged, walked briskly up to them and placed fists on her hips. But her look was more hassled than angry or fearful. "Good, now can you come up with an extra dozen hands?" She appraised them rather mournfully. "Four will have to do. The both of you, help apply this."

"But…we haven't a clue…" B'led stammered.

"It's not exactly an art. Get a handful; rub it on those long, black things that seem to be smoking. Move it!" Her bright blue eyes dared them to put up even the smallest additional mite of resistance.

Saya wasn't quite sure she fancied placing her hands anywhere near the Threadscores, but she certainly couldn't shirk such a duty. Another look at the desperate face of the dragonrider helped motivate her to dip her hands into the numbweed hastily, cup two palmfuls of it, and move to the side of the brown dragon.

B'led had spoken truth: she didn't have any idea of how to apply it properly. But, she tentatively reached out to the nearest Thread-mark and gingerly patted her handful of salve onto it. When the dragon neither roared nor whimpered, she rubbed more vigorously, trying to think of it as oil on Valianth's smooth green skin. B'led did the same, several hands away at the base of the brown's tail.

Saya observed for a moment the intensity and sober concentration of all caring for the dragon. Their muscles worked with a sureness born of experience as well as expertise, and the group functioned as smoothly as if they were one entity. She paused there, fingers hovering inches above the skin, and pondered in amazement the efficiency of the group. Such a community had been only a daydream at Fort Hold.

Blinking, she recalled her position and shook herself fiercely back to reality.

Not trusting herself to handle the delicate wings, Saya heaved a deep breath and went back for more numbweed to smooth onto his main body. They continued for almost an hour to nearly drench the dragon in the smelly substance, but the atmosphere after every score had been liberally tended was one of accomplishment mingled with gravity.

The blue-eyed lady who had compelled them to work finally managed to pry the rider away from his beast and practically poured a jar of numbweed over his head. "Filoth will be fine," she told him sharply. "Go eat something hot, and I expect you to take at least a half-hour doing so before I see your face around here again."

_Where have you been? _Valianth suddenly asked Saya, sounding so lonely that the girl's heart skipped.

_I'm sorry, dear heart. B'led and I were called to help tend Filoth, who was injured in flight. We'll be back soon, and I'll give you a good scrub and oiling._

_Filoth?_

_A brown, of D'ril and Bhianth's Wing, I think. _She was proud of herself for knowing that tidbit.

There was a pause. _I have spoken to him. He is grateful for your help, as is his rider._

Gratification flooded Saya. It was pleasant to know that Filoth had acknowledged her help, let alone thanked her for it. Her admiration for dragonkind increased; to have such emotions while experiencing such a painful trauma was incredible.

Of course, it was likely that lasting memories of the incident would only pervade in her mind and in the heavy grief weighing upon Filoth's rider. No doubt events like these ultimately merged into one long, stressful blur for the people of Fort.

B'led approached her then, hands sticky and his brow furrowed deeply. "You alright?" he asked croakily.

Saya took a lengthy, satisfying breath. "I'm fine. Valianth's called for me, though, so I should go see her."

"G'sas is probably frantic by now, anyway," B'led replied, wiping his hands against his trousers in a vain attempt to rid them of the remaining numbweed.

Saya felt that way, as well; as if the salve were somehow contaminated with the disturbing reminiscences of the injured dragon. "I had no idea," she said, rather lamely, to her friend.

He understood, somehow. "None of us did," he said, reaching hesitatingly to put a hand on her shoulder before realizing that it was still coated with goo. He grimaced and put the same hand to his face in that realization, and then yelped with disgust at the fact that his temples now sported gluey blobs.

Saya hid a grin behind her wrist, but another mental tap from Valianth set her to jumping.

"Sorry, B'led! I've got to go! I'll see you around?"

He was watching a string of numbweed stretch from his head to his fingertip. "Certainly," he answered.

Fylanth had informed the young dragons, including Valianth, Hirth, Witarth, and those of Saya's other friends, to make the short flight to the top of the bowel and wait for their riders to be transported up by mature dragons. On this day, a chill, breezy one graced by cloud-flecked sky, the Weyrlings were to have their first flights and trips _between_ with their dragons. The tension in the barracks was palpable as blue and green dragons settled down on the ledge to take passengers.

Saya and a boy named T'rin clambered up hastily onto the back of blue Tissath, guided by his grinning rider, H'poel.

"I heard we're to be assigned weyrs of our own after this!" T'rin whispered into her ear, so quickly she could hardly understand him.

Saya was happy to hear that news, but she struggled with slight inhibitions of her own. "You scared of _between?"_ she dared to ask the fidgety blonde boy.

"Naw," he replied. "Krieth and I can do it. I'm not worried."

H'poel didn't bother warning them of Tissath's imminent takeoff, but they both felt the dragon's sinuous muscles tense just before he leaped into the sky and slid into a lazy thermal upward. Saya, seated with T'rin and H'poel behind her, felt her face flush with delight. She would never tire of dragonflight.

Valianth crooned when she saw her rider seated upon the sleek blue, which touched down softly on the bowl rim. T'rin and Saya were both so determined to get to their beasts that they rather tumbled down the dragon's side in a tangle of limbs. H'poel made a remark about clumsy dragonets, but by the time they both whirled to glare at him, the rider and Tissath were already a dragonlength into the air.

Saya shrugged it off, apologized to T'rin for her elbow finding its way to his collarbone, and hurried to Valianth. She stroked the green's long neck.

_This is it, Valianth. Are we ready to show the Weyr what we've got?_

_I've been ready since my hatching._

Valianth, it seemed, had grown even more in the past sevenday. She was handsome and strong, one of the few younger dragons who were already feeding on their own. Just the other day, Saya had watched in wonder as her lovely green had struck down an unfortunate wherry with unbounded force.

Today, though, she thought, we become riders. And she becomes a Thread-fighter.

She looked about at the other Weyrlings tending their beasts, and caught Y'kiz's eye as he stood nearby next to his bronze. The difference in size between Witarth and Valianth was painfully obvious, but Valianth held her head just as highly and proudly as any queen.

"Firestone?" Saya mouthed to the bronzerider.

Y'kiz shrugged; gave her an uncertain look.

The simultaneous bugles of two dragons, one brown and one bronze, startled all the weyrfolk into silence. The dazzling forms were circling above them, having appeared from nowhere.

_G'sas and Jeth, and Q'mil and Gidrith_, Valianth informed her, correctly predicting Saya's inquiry.

Gidrith settled into landing first, then Jeth: Q'mil straightened to speak to them from his perch between his dragon's neck ridges.

"Today, you throw off the title of grounded Weyrling and begin to embrace the true spirit of the dragonrider!" he began, but was then drowned out in the ensuing raucous cheers.

"Your dragons have reached a considerable size," he continued.

"So, after you _all_," he eyed them with unusual ferocity, "have successfully flown, transferred _between_ and back again, and your dragons have developed a taste for firestone, you will be given a new home for you and your partner: a weyr in the bowlside, accessible only through flight."

More cheers followed that announcement: Saya scanned the group of riders and dragons for T'rin, who was probably looking pleased with himself.

"Fortunately, your dragons have already had a taste of the sky," Q'mil hollered. "And if you trust in their abilities, they will take you far today."

"Quite the pep talk," Saya mumbled to herself, and felt Valianth rumble in amusement. She could also sense the dragon's barely-contained anticipation, which was mingling with the general atmosphere of the entire area. The whole bowltop was nearly ringing with suspended dragon power.

"There are far too many of you to take off at once," G'sas was shouting loudly over the babble that had developed in the pause. "Greens and blues will take the first flight." There were a couple moans. "Browns and bronzes: there are firestone sacks waiting for you behind me. Bring one each back to your beast, and get some space alone. Try it out. Do _not_, under any circumstances, put any living creature in the path of your dragon's muzzle."

Aside from those brief instructions, the bronze- and brownriders were left to their own devices. Undoubtedly the mature riders were hoping to cultivate strong independence in the pairs, which would serve them well during future Threadfalls.

Saya and Valianth would try their hands with the firestone later: for now, the girl headed to Q'mil, who was handing out harnesses to the riders preparing for flight. At first glance, the harness looked to her like a hopeless wad of leather straps, but Q'mil himself actually helped her make right of it and rig it to Valianth. They were all already suited up in their flying gear, so rubbing wouldn't be a problem.

"She's big enough to hold me?" Saya couldn't help but blurt out at Q'mil's retreating back.

He turned with a reassuring smile. "Even greens, by this age, are stronger than twenty men."

Saya's nervous excitement felt a flare of distaste. "Even greens…"

_Ignore the man. One of the lesser queens is due to fly and all the bronzes are on edge, even Gidrith, _Valianth told her in a placating tone.

_Can a bronze be mated to two queens at once? _Saya wondered in reply, and added it to her list of questions to ask F'bran. She missed the nutty bronzerider, but she hadn't seen him for several days.

She mounted Valianth with little difficulty, doing as she had seen older dragonriders do: swinging one leg over and grabbing the reins of the harness. Valianth tossed her head a little impatiently, a bit of noise escaping her snout as Saya tied, undid, and retied all the knots in all the proper places, checked her stability, and then mumbled to herself if she should ask Q'mil for permission.

Valianth, apparently, disagreed with that notion. Saya whooped in her breathe as translucent but powerful wings rose on either side of her: she marveled at their lengthy span. The green had caught a strong gust, and with two great beats, dragon and rider burst into the air.

To be continued...


End file.
